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Cloud computing
Mar. 21st, 2009 09:32 amThe computer geeks, unsatiated by purloining the word "Windows" for themselves from the real world, are now chasing the word "cloud". Cloud computing will be everywhere and it will be only a few years before the mention of the word will only as an afterthought be associated with white fluffy stuff in the sky.
I mention this because there appears to be a smatering of thin cloud cover this morning, rather spoiling my plans for a relaxing couple of hours on the balcony reading my book (I've started the third in the Neal Stephenson trilogy -- holidays being a great time to read these bulk-monsters). I'll be checking out in about 45 minutes and then passing the time over coffee until it's time to go to the airport.
Im still rather ambivalent about this kind of break. I feel that I ought to be enjoying myself more than I am, doing what "normal" people do, and then feeling guilty because I am not (enjoying myself as much as I should, doing what other people find "fun"). The trick, of course, is to not give a toss, but I can't manage that either. Thus I'm in a cleft stick. Unlike "normal" people I can't do the "normal " things (or, rather, I can, but I do spend a considerable amont of time wondering what the point of it is, or I don't bother in the first place) and, unlike my fellow mutants, I can't do my own thing and feel comfortable about it. Abandoned by both camps, as it were.
I did get up early in order to catch the sunrise. Last night I walked a good couple of miles in an attempt to get a good picture of a sunset (not, I admit, something a "normal" holidaymaker would go out of their way to do! So perhaps it's horses for courses)... and I didn't get one. This morning the required walk was shorter (although the getting-up time was harder) and the pictures were better. There was one other hardy soul, who, for a photographer, was puzzling in his timidity. As I marched to various places to take pictures, it only occurred to me after I had spent longer than usual in one particular spot, that he was waiting for me to finish. This, to be frank, is rather dumb if you are taking pictures of the sun coming up. He could easily have walked past me (up a spur into the Med which acted as a breakwater) so that our picture-taking could have leap-frogged each other, but, instead, he just stood there, 20 yards away, waiting. Odd.
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I mention this because there appears to be a smatering of thin cloud cover this morning, rather spoiling my plans for a relaxing couple of hours on the balcony reading my book (I've started the third in the Neal Stephenson trilogy -- holidays being a great time to read these bulk-monsters). I'll be checking out in about 45 minutes and then passing the time over coffee until it's time to go to the airport.
Im still rather ambivalent about this kind of break. I feel that I ought to be enjoying myself more than I am, doing what "normal" people do, and then feeling guilty because I am not (enjoying myself as much as I should, doing what other people find "fun"). The trick, of course, is to not give a toss, but I can't manage that either. Thus I'm in a cleft stick. Unlike "normal" people I can't do the "normal " things (or, rather, I can, but I do spend a considerable amont of time wondering what the point of it is, or I don't bother in the first place) and, unlike my fellow mutants, I can't do my own thing and feel comfortable about it. Abandoned by both camps, as it were.
I did get up early in order to catch the sunrise. Last night I walked a good couple of miles in an attempt to get a good picture of a sunset (not, I admit, something a "normal" holidaymaker would go out of their way to do! So perhaps it's horses for courses)... and I didn't get one. This morning the required walk was shorter (although the getting-up time was harder) and the pictures were better. There was one other hardy soul, who, for a photographer, was puzzling in his timidity. As I marched to various places to take pictures, it only occurred to me after I had spent longer than usual in one particular spot, that he was waiting for me to finish. This, to be frank, is rather dumb if you are taking pictures of the sun coming up. He could easily have walked past me (up a spur into the Med which acted as a breakwater) so that our picture-taking could have leap-frogged each other, but, instead, he just stood there, 20 yards away, waiting. Odd.
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