Tania.co.za

27 Dinner

"Some places have opened up on the list. Want to go with me?"
"Go where?"
"Dinner. With about forty-eight close friends."

So Christopher joined me for the 27 Dinner at The Wild Fig. I introduced him to one of my favourite 27ers, Ian Gilfillan (whom I had mentioned to him a couple of times after StarCamp in the context of a kind of modern agrarian utopia). They had a good chat about The Ethical Co-Op, while I went off to elicit Bev Merriman's assistance in getting my uncle's blog going. (My uncle, a doctor, has written a book about impotence, but I just don't have the time to assist him properly in marketing it on the Web.)

We went and seated ourselves in the back row (which was not quite as "riotous" as the back row was a year ago). Christopher was absolutely fascinated by the Stormhoek microcosm as expounded by Graham and Shane, who shared our table.
"I just love the passion of these people!" he said, completely taken with the notion of spending a day at Stormhoek. (Fynbos, community development and integrated business thinking tend to give him an adrenalin rush.)

Graham Knox of Stormhoek (the event's wine sponsor) with Tim and Garrick from Quirk.

Chrsitopher with Stormhoek's Shane.

I could not have anticipated that an environmental scientist would find so much pleasure in being dragged off to an event frequented primarily attended by Web marketers. I wonder what would happen if you dragged a trombonist onto a dancefloor...? Don't worry, I'm not even going to go there, as I suspect that in the absence of a bazooka, a trombone could work quite nicely.

A recent e-mail conversation about software Project Management with one of my fellow Geek Diners

He:	I'm potentially looking for a project manager for a large intranet/software integration project for a well known company. They'd need a good track record of managing technical projects. I think their approach is related to the PMBOK. Is that something you could help with, at all?
I:	Yes, I know someone suitable, but in Johannesburg. Is this in Cape Town? She said she is looking for a contract of about 3 months. She would be comfortable with the PMBOK approach. I am seeing her on Monday. Can you give me more detail about where and for how long?
He:	This is most definitely Cape Town, so Jo'burg might not really be a good base. And the project might run for 3-6 months, with follow-on projects popping up after that. We actually need a project manager to tell us how long the project should run for.  ;-)
I:	I am going to suggest that you speak to Peter... um... Peter... I will get his name for you. He was at the last Geek Dinner. Very experienced IT Project Manager. The problem with scoping IT projects is that they tend to be evolutionary; it is not always that easy to peg down requirements at the start. Only about 25% of IT projects can be managed using traditional project management methodologies, and many new methodologies like PRINCE2 and Rational are far too process-heavy for smaller projects. I suspect that many people who have aligned themselves with the PMBOK are trying to use construction industry models to manage what amount to R&D projects, which often results in a square-peg/round-hole situation although the last Guide to the PMBOK which I saw did include some stuff on iterative project management, but this doesn't always go far enough, and I don't think people who did their PMBOK-based study in the olden days have all got up to date with newer methods yet. OK, but now I am geting side-tracked. Peter would be able to assist in ensuring that the most appropriate approach is taken. Gonna get his details for you, BRB...
He:	Wow! That's actually a really interesting paragraph -- thanks for going off topic. The utter difference between construction industry PM and software PM was a topic in a recent conversation for me. I am trying to do an iterative project with the customer in question and it is tricky.  I think they might be mired in inappropriate methodology. But then again, I don't yet know that much.
I:	I am currently reading Effective Software Project Management by Robert K. Wysocki. I bought it because I have been "seeing this thing coming" for a number of years now, and it seems that many places offering Project Management training courses in South Africa are ignoring it. After that I have another book lined up, which is more about the software development process (coding, testing, etc.), and then I want to get a book on Agile project costing which I saw at Amazon. In order to get through all these books, I need to do a speed reading course; and in order to do a speed reading course, I need to get five other people to attend along with me, otherwise they won't hold the course in Cape Town. So if you know of anyone who wants to do the ExecuRead course for a discounted price, please let me know!

A message from rw

Dear Zohren


Good grief. I just realised that you must be 22 or 23 by now. Time has passed so quickly. Old people always say that. So maybe I am getting old!

You were 14 when we met. Either you were wearing a leopard head, or I won that leopard head, and I gave it to you, I don't remember so well anymore. A year or two later year you were really into Britney Spears and Pokemon, neither of which I had heard of at that time. Do you remember? You'd probably want to forget about that now!

You know when I usually think about you? Obviously when I see a Dalmatian, but besides that, usually whenever I am staying in a standardised hotel room. I think about my turfs, and that you helped me to get my first one; and how, when I was very unhappy in rw, I could just go into one of my turfs and no-one could come in, and I felt secure. Or I could go out and ghost, or maybe even unghost and talk to someone, and they wouldn't know how miserable I was, because we talked about other stuff. I think if you knew how much I needed you and how much you meant to me, you would have freaked at the burden of having to be a friend to someone who was so depressed. But you didn't know, so you just treated me like a normal person, and that helped.

I think you were also iw on New Year 2000. When midnight came in my country, I was back in rw, walking in a vineyard with my husband, and it was drizzling, and I was crying. (I was still married back then.) I think I went back iw afterwards. I felt happier there. Not exactly happy, but happier. Temporarily anaesthetised.

The funny thing about rw is that it reminds me of the virtual world sometimes, not the other way round. Even now, years later. Like with hotel rooms, but even with other things, like a coffee mug which I bought. It was called a Seattle mug, and that made me think of the skyline from my Seattle turf, although I didn't spend much time in that turf. (I just didn't have enough tokens to do a good job of furnishing it!) See? When I think of Seattle, I think of iw Seattle, not rw Seattle, because it is the only Seattle I know.

When I left, I gave my Sherry head to Emmeau for safekeeping, in case I ever came back, but I never did come back. I wonder who has it now. It was my favourite ware, because it actually looked like me when I added the ponytail and painted it to match my rw hair colour. (I don't think I look quite like that anymore, though.) Or maybe the world doesn't even exist anymore! I haven't been back for so many years. And if it does, they have probably changed the name again, so I wouldn't necessarily be able to find it.

If I do find it, I don't think I would go back in though. I don't know that I would want to see all the changes and a whole lot of new people; on the other hand, I also wouldn't want to see any of the old people either, because it would remind me of how desperately sad I was back then. I have a rw life now, and plenty of rw friends. I don't even have a computer at home. Deliberately.

I wonder if you are now pursuing a career in Web design full-time. I didn't think you would continue with your acting career. You were pretty good at scripting back then, so in eight years you have probably come a long way. As for me, I am not whipping up sites at a rate of one a week like I used to, but I do still work with that stuff from time to time, and I now have a full-time Web-based business. I am offline tonight, but tomorrow I am going to Google you. Not sure why, really, just curious, I suppose.

TYVM for everything back then.

X

Speed reading course in Cape Town: 10 to 13 March

I started learning to read before I was 2, and was writing stories by the age of 5, but I never learned to read very fast. When was at university, I always finished a book way after the lecturer had already gone on to the next one. Now I need to read a fat books to stay abreast of things in my field, but I am struggling. I mentioned to Max Kaizen that I was looking for a speed reading course and she suggested that I contact the people from Evelyn Wood, because she had a good experience with their training.

I need to get together a group of 6 to 15 people so that these people will run an ExecuRead course for us in Cape Town. They said if I can organise this, they will give everyone a 10% discount off their usual corporate rates, which means that each person would pay R2245.50 including VAT. If we can make those numbers, the dates of the course will be 10 to 13 March 2008, in the evenings from 18:00 to 21:00. The venue is still being finalised, but it will probably be at Autumn Leaf's training centre in Bellville.

If you think you may possibly be interested, please let me know by contacting me on Facebook or by sending me a message here. I have some more details about the course which I can send you when I get back from Johannesburg next week.

Coversation with a fellow shopper in the appliances department of a shop in Tyger Valley Centre (edited)

A few days ago Christopher accompanied me to Tyger Valley as I went to look for a new all-in-one radio-cassette-and-CD player. (Yes, I listen to non-fiction audiobooks on tape, and no, they do not make all of them in a CD version, and no, they are not all available as podcasts, and no, I do not want to buy a home audio studio so that I can turn them all into MP3s when there is a perfectly cheap way of playing them without having to go to all that extra effort.) I happened to be wearing a beaded waist-decoration, a hematite necklace and Indian-style hand jewellery, and this may have influenced the perceptions of a stranger later.

"Hierdie een is vreesaanjaend," I said to Christopher, holding a chrome-edged space-age Rococo monster with large round built-in speakers that looked like fly-eyes. "Imagine this thing came towards you, walking through the haze," I said, holding it in front of my face.

"Walking through the haze!" a fellow shopper nearby repeated, giggling heartily as he pictured the menacing cyborg. He was a slightly effeminite man, I guess in his mid-20s. For a while we talked about the relative scaryness of the various gadgets, and how some of them looked less scary because they looked completely alien, while the ones that looked like mutants of earthly origin were the most frightening. "I am also having difficulty finding a suitable one," he said. "I am looking for one of these for my mother, but most of them don't look like something she'd be comfortable owning."

We discussed the various merits and demerits of what was on offer.

"This one allows you to plug in a memory stick," I pointed out, "so you can also play MP3s. I like that feature."

"This one can play DVDs," said the stranger. "But you'd obviously have to plug in a screen."

"That wouldn't really be something for me. I don't have a screen," I said. "I mean, I don't have a TV."

The stranger looked at us in awe. "I've heard about... I mean, I know all about it, but this is really amazing! It's the first time I have actually met real-life hippies!"

Moedertaal

Vandag is Internasionale Moedertaaldag. As ek nou die tyd gehad het, sou ek soos Gandhi lank en passievol kon geskryf het oor die belangrikheid van moedertale. Maar ek het nie veel tyd nie. Kom ek som net iets op, sodat ek darem 'n sêtjie kan sê voor die dag verby is.

My moedertaal

As ek nou vir my 'n moedertaal moet kies, dan sou dit die taal van al my oupas en oumas wees, maar soos ons hom in my ouerhuis gepraat het. Dit was my eerste taal, maar nie die enigste taal wat ons tuis gepraat het nie. Een van die eienskappe van hierdie taal waarvan ek baie hou is sy dinamiese woordskeppingsvermoë. As jy byvoorbeeld 'n ou op die strand met sand bedek, hom oopkrap, dan weer toegooi en wéér oopgrawe, dan kan jy hom 'n "heroopgegrawene" noem. Ek glo nie daar is so 'n woord in die woordeboek nie. Maar daar sou kon wees, want dit werk.

Taalrykdom

Wanneer 'n taal uitsterf, is dit soos die uitsterwe van 'n spesie, en net so 'n verlies vir die wêreld. Jy kry gewoonlik nog verwante diersoorte, maar nie daai soort dier nie.

Dieselfde gedagtes kan nie in elke taal geformuleer word nie. Dink maar net aan rekenaartale: JavaScript werk anders as Java. Die sintaksis en die woordeskat is anders. Wanneer jy Java skryf, ontstaan daar iets anders as wanneer jy JavaScript skryf. Ons het wel algemene internasionale omgangstale nodig, net soos 'n mens 'n tussenmedium soos XML nodig het om inligting tussen twee verskillende datastelsels uit te ruil. Mense met verskillende huistale moet soms met mekaar kan kommunikeer. Dit is dus OK dat die ou koloniale tale soos Engels, Frans, Spaans en Russies, en nou ook Sjinees, steeds as tweede tale aangeleer word.

Maar die mensdom se gedagtewêreld raak armer wanneer moedertale kwyn en sterf. En omdat die gedagtewêreld armer raak, raak die beleweniswêreld ook armer. Ek glo vas dat die Duitse taalstruktuur daartoe bygedra het dat Duitsland, veral na die Tweede Wêreldoorlog, na die voorfront van tegnologiese ontwikkeling beweeg het. Akademiese Duits herinner my baie aan 'n rekenaartaal, omdat dit 'n mens toelaat om so baie klousules binne-in mekaar te plaas, sonder dat jy jou draad verloor. Daar is ook 'n mate van woordskepping moontlik binne die Duitse grammatikale raamwerk. Hierdie soort logiese struktuur stel 'n mens in staat om makliker tot logiese gevolgtrekkings te kom. (Dis tog logies! Hehehe...)

Taalarmoede

Dowe mense wat slegs gebaretaal (wat nie so 'n genuanseerde woordeskat soos volkstale het nie) kan praat, is klaarblyklik meer gefrustreerd en nie so 'slim' soos diegene wat kan liplees en praat nie, want taal stel mens in staat om meer geformuleerd te dink.

Dit gaan nie net alles oor logika nie. Dit gaan ook oor plesier. Jy kan mos nou darem nie hierdie sin sommer net so woord vir woord vertaal nie, of hoe?

Afrikaans het grotendeels ontstaan toe die voorsate van vandag se Kleurlingmense slawe was aan die Kaap. Hulle eie moedertale is vervang deur hulle onderdrukkers se taal, maar hulle het self daaruit 'n taal met 'n ryk uitdukkingsvermoë geskep. Baie hedendaagse Afrikaanssprekende Kleurlingouers het egter om verskeie redes besluit om hulle kinders eerder in Engels groot te maak. As gevolg van hulle verarmde woordeskat en swak kennis van die Engelse taalstruktuur, kommunikeer hierdie kinders swak. Hulle praat miskien wel 'n nuwe dialek van Engels, en dialekte is nie per se sleg nie; maar dis 'n arm dialek, want hulle kan nie baie gedagtes daarmee uitdruk nie. En hulle kommunikeer moeilik met mense wat standaard-Engels of -Afrikaans praat. Soos Marius altyd sê: Wanneer dié kinders se ouers stry of vry, dan doen hulle dit nog steeds in Afrikaans. Emosie kom op sy beste tot uiting in 'n mens se hartstaal.

Tale verander. Dis OK. Dis goed. Ons hoef nie alles te hou soos dit was nie. Maar ons moenie in die proses dommer en armer word nie. Ons moet die goeie beskerm, behou en bevorder.

Lunar eclipse

My flatmate, my neighbour and I got up at five to look at the lunar eclipse. It was quite a pleasant, bonding experience to get up for something of no real consequence and talk rubbish for half an hour in the middle of the night. We had been promised that the moon would look red. "It looks more like the colour of a Ghost Pop," said my neighbour. Whatever else was exchanged amongst us, I cannot remember, but it was equally un-profound. We all went to bed happy.

Coversation with a tall Goth-like salesman in CD Select in Tyger Valley Centre (edited)

(I enter, wearing a butterfly print top with green lace-edged wing-cap sleeves, a pink beaded necklace, and my hair in a ponytail plait.)

I:	I would like to buy something from Radiohead, other than OK Computer; I have that one already. The heavier the better.
	(He hands me three CDs. I listen to them all, and hand back the red one.)
	I'll take that these two. You can't do ballet to that one.
He:	You do ballet to Radiohead?!

Ai

Hiermee spreek ek nou in die openbaar my misnoë met my pa uit, omdat hy na meer as 45 jaar van getroudwees, en ten spyte van die feit dat hy sedert sy aftrede meer tyd het om aan sulke dinge te dink, nog steeds nie die jolly moeite kan doen om vir my ma 'n ou verjaarsdagpresentjie te koop, pluk of maak nie. En sy hanteer die teleurstelling altyd so braaf. Ek wil nou sommer huil.

Lost

He and his boyfriend had the howmanieth fight in their toxic relationship. The same boyfriend with whom he allegedly blew R92000 in three months when they arrived in the country together.

The fight was over R20.

The boyfriend kicked him out, but he begged his way back in; then he walked out so that he could have the upper hand. Or maybe it was the other way round. Anyway, each went off and fornicated with a woman as an act of revenge. Or so he says. Now he has nowhere to sleep, no passport, no visa, no-one who will employ him without proof of identity, and no experience at the way the world is supposed to work. He gets his food and a night or two's lodgings from his friends by a combination of favours and begging, with a street-child's manipulative smile. (Of course, technically, he is no longer a child.) How it basically works is like this: He suggests that they go off and get some dope or chronic together. He doesn't have any money for the stuff, but he takes the friend to the dealer, or he gets it from the dealer for them if they give him the money. He keeps a little for himself, just one, maybe two or three joints, I don't know -- enough to get himself stoned, and if possible a little to give to the next guy of whom he will have to ask a favour. Then he stays for a day or two, does the cooking, and when people eventually want their space back, he moves on to the next place.

I smelled dope yesterday in the early evening and stepped onto my balcony out of curiosity. No-one is allowed to smoke within proximity of my flat; no-one is allowed to roll spliffs at my place and nobody is supposed to come there stoned. One of my neighbours saw me from below and asked if I had seen him. "No," I laughed, considering the context, "but I can smell him!"

A few days ago he told me another one of his pipe dreams, about how his father was going to be coming for a visit with a whole lot of forex, and all he'd need to do for it would be to arrange an introduction to a woman who likes a man with tight pants, and the best coke you can get in South Africa. He just needed R100 to see him through the week, he said. I didn't give it to him, but I did give him a bowl of noodles.

By eleven last night he was drunk as usual and all out of friends and favours. He asked me if he could sleep over at my place. I said no. I warmed up some left-overs for him, which he ate from a plastic don't-bother-to-return-it plate, using chopsticks which I once got when I ordered an oriental meal from Mr. Delivery during my last visit to Johannesburg. I also gave him all the little hotel bottles (shampoo, soap and the like) which I had originally kept after the same trip for a friend who (according to my olfactory system) wasn't following standard ablution protocols. But that guy had moved out of the building by the time I returned.

Outside my flat, down the corridor, he ate from the plastic plate while I went off to shower, and then to my clean white bed, with gentle music in the background.

And I wondered what advice Jesus in all his love and righteousness would have given me. Being an agnostic is not very useful when in your heart you are yearning to save the world.

Just because I don't often talk about suffering...

...doesn't mean that I am far from it.

Finding my way, MY way

Sometimes labeling your problem makes you feel better

When I was finally diagnosed as having a medical problem and put in front of a panel of fourteen specialists as a case study in my early 30s, it was a great relief. At last, I had an excuse for having had the ugliest legs in the school. Giving a fancy-sounding label like lymphoedema to something embarassing somehow makes it more acceptable. The thinking goes something like this: "My condition is abnormal, and that explains why I struggle with this. It's the way that I am, permanently, but because it is not my fault, I can be a cool person." I had a friend who felt a similar sense of relief when the label of bipolar disorder was finally placed on him.

A problem without a label

Now I am looking for another label to comfort me. I have a terrible sense of direction. Worse than most women. I get lost in buildings, and I struggle to find my way to places I've been to often, like Lourensford Estate. I think it's like when someone has dyslexia: other people are just so incredulous about your struggle that they think you are exaggerating when you try to explain the problem. They seem to be thinking, "You can't possibly be so dof at this one thing when you are so clever at other things!"

Dealing with the problem

I have mechanisms for dealing with it, provided that people are willing to answer my questions instead of redesigning them. When I was a student at Stellenbosch University, I used to occasionally go in to Cape Town for the day, and Mikhailo would pick me up after work, always at the Town House Hotel. I never really knew where that hotel was, but about an hour before pick-up time, I would start asking people to point me in the right direction. Invariably, they would start giving me instructions which I could not remember, and I would have to ask again, "So I start of walking that way, right?" I would walk for a certain distance, get a bit muddled, then ask the next person, and the next, until I arrived at the hotel, and I was always on time. It was not stressful, provided that I had enough time. Friends and relatives who discovered I was like this would trying to provide a better, more logical judgement and solution. "How can you get lost in Cape Town?" they'd ask. "There's such a big mountain on the side, that you should always be able to know where you are in relation to that."
"I know that," I would complain, "but the problem is that as soon as I turn around, the mountain is somewhere else!" Conventional reason and logic does not help.

Just answer the question!

Walking is easier than driving, because with your feet you can stop, cross the road and even reverse almost anywhere, so it isn't so bad when people just try to be helpful but don't exactly tell you what you want to know. But driving is not so nice, and sometimes people's attempts to translate my specific questions into their own terms can be particularly frustrating. A few months ago, I phoned Virgin Active's Cape Town head office and said, "I have to come to a business meeting at your office this afternoon. I know you're in Main Road, but Main Road is very long, so could you please tell me what number in Main Road, and also, what other roads are nearby?" That way, I knew, I could find it in the map book. But the reply I got was, "Where are you coming from?" I knew then that this was going to be a long frustrating call. Eventually, after restating my question numerous times, I asked to be put through to someone who could answer me. It took a very long time and several call transfers before I finally got put through someone who could give me the number, the nearby roads, and the nearest landmark. That was all I needed! But in the process of trying to get this simple question answered, I lost my cool so badly that I became horribly, pedantically sarcastic.

Sometimes the horrible sarcastic pedantry runs in the opposite direction.

On Monday night I asked a friend where a specific meeting would be held on Tuesday. He told me the name of the building, and said that it was behind N1 City. I SMSed back to ask if I should take the same turn-off as I would to go to N1 City, and by the sarcasm of his reply (he started mentioning roads in Johannesburg), I assumed that I must have phrased the question incorrectly, and that I had probably accidentally asked "How do I get to the N1?" (At least I do know how to do that -- from my home or office anyway, but not from many other places!) But I later learned that I had indeed phrased the question correctly, and he could simply not understand why I needed such detailed instruction. He eventually sent me the correct directions, but they didn't make sense to me anyway. I studied a map book, but the problem is, I can only remember a sequence of two landmarks, and then I have to park somewhere to turn the map around, read the street names again, and locate the next two landmarks. (And of course, you can't park on most major roads, so you usually can't just stop to repeat the exercise when you've reached landmark number two.) As usual I got lost. Eventually I made it to the right place, and when we left the meeting, I drove behind him until I was back on the N1 in the direction of Paarl. I think that by most people's standards, it was probably not a difficult place to find, but if I hadn't followed him out of there, there were three distinct points at which I would have turned in precisely the opposite direction to the route I was supposed to take.

People are more sympathetic if you're wearing a label

If you are deaf, you can say, "I am deaf. Please tell me how to get to the post office, but keep facing me as you talk, so that I can lip-read. Just speak normally." The I-am-deaf bit explains why you are asking for the instructions to be given in a specific way. Some people do assume that because you are not "normal", they must be cleverer than you and thus capable of figuring out a better way to communicate to you than what you've just told them, but at least they tend to be sympathetic to the fact that you want them to deal with you in a special way.

So what's my label?

This morning I searched Google for a name for my condition. I couldn't find one. And if I don't find one within a week, I am jolly well going to invent one. Then I can at least say something like, "I need to get to the next Geek Dinner, but I have Dystopic Zerodirectional Disorder. That means that in order to find the place, I will need the answers to specific questions, rather than instructions given in the usual way. Are you willing to help me by answering my questions?"

And even if they haven't heard of DZD before, I can bet you that because this condition now has a name, people will be more willing to help me find my way, my way.

Promotional clothing

Has anyone noticed that companies which specialise in producing branded clothing all have the same kind of thing? The whole idea of branding is supposed to be about standing out, or at least developing an image which is uniquely yours. Why does everyone sell only baseball caps, sports jackets and golf shirts? Have you noticed the sameness in that? All that changes is the colour and the logo, and anyone who knows anything about branding has long since learned that brand is not just about logo. Your brand must be "smashable". When are they going to expand their choices to include tank tops, mesh coats, dungarees and thigh-length boots? When I want promotional clothing, my last resort is usually to contact a company that specialises in promotional clothing.

Getting off the cell phone spammers' list

I am happy to say that AIG got back to me with details of how they obtained information about me (see original blog entry). It was not from the so-called "National Consumer Database" as one of their telemarketers originally said, but at least now I will be able to follow this up properly. Here's the mail I got from AIG:


Hi Tania

Thank you for your email. I made contact with each and every call centre asking for an email removal of your name, as well as individual list providers stating that they need to remove you from their database and not market any future AIG products to you. We managed to ascertain that the Freestyle List Owner provided us with your data. We have an agreement in place with the List Owner that each person on that database has voluntarily and knowlingly provided their details for marketing purposes. I have also been in contact with Derek Skewis (Sales and Marketing Director) regarding the specifics of how they obtained your details. Derek stated that the Freestyle database is comprised of Edgars, Bank and various other members. Should you wish to contact the List Owner directly his cell number is 083 565 2131.

I will also send him an email now requesting that he phones you urgently to further clarify how he obtained your details.

Please let me know if he does not contact you and I will follow up with him.


Kind regards
Nicky


I have an acount with Edgars, but I did not voluntarily and knowingly sign up for spam. Actually, I don't know whether Edgars contributes to the lists or just uses them like AIG did in this case; but either way, I reckon it will probably be best if I just closed my account with them. I am also going to find out what other organisations form part of this syndicate, so that I can close those accounts as well.

See follow-up story

Geek Dinner, Project Management and Lesser-Known Norse Deities

I'm tired today, not because Wessel, Peter, John and I were the last people to leave the Geek Dinner last night, but because the Wizard of Oz started his new job today and asked me to give him a wake-up call at 6, and I couldn't get back to sleep after that! There's something else wrong with me, and it's not low blood pressure, as I thought. I almost fainted yesterday after a Vitamin B12 injection, and I haven't figured out why yet.

I had volunteered to be the presenter of the slideshow karaoke at the Geek Dinner last night, and had feared that Jeremy would prepare a slideshow on Erlang; but instead, he had created a delightfully simple presentation on Lesser-Known Norse Deities, which made it really easy for me to wing it, especially considering that my fascination with etymology includes a passing interest in ancient Norse and its derivative languages, something that Jeremy could not have anticipated. Not that I had ever heard of any of these obscure gods, though, so much of what I knew was entirely irrelevant to this peculiar sub-topic!

Peter, who has been in Project Management for three decades, gave a short impromptu introduction to Agile Project Management with Scrum. I think most people didn't know what he was on about or why it is so important, but I was very glad that by doing so he had at least identified himself within the crowd, so after supper I went to his table to ask him everything about Agile training and his experiences with Scrum. I am working on the development of a special introductory course in formal Project Management for people in the IT industry (to become part of the course list at ProjectManagement.co.za) and have such a stack of books I need to work through that I am going to have to take a speed reading course. Peter's enthusiasm for Agile, and his in-depth knowledge of other methodologies (including traditional waterfall techniques and "heavy" methodologies like RUP), plus his experience with Goldratt's Critical Chain, make him far more experienced than most Project Managers I come across. And rather than paying lip-service to Agile and then saying that it is too disorganised (a common complaint from people who've worked in environments where the managers haven't really taken the care to implement it properly), Peter could explain the merits compared to other approaches in great detail, corroborating much of what I had read about this subject since my first exposure to it at BarCamp in 2006.

The venue was a bit odd this time. The food was OK, but the waitresses seemed to be either moody or distracted. One guy suggested that maybe their boss decided that the service charge included in our cost per person wasn't going to be passed on to them!

A very happy aspect of the event was that the wine was sponsored by Stormhoek. This was an important milestone, because it was Stormhoek that originally came up with the idea of promoting its product via geek dinners worldwide, thus ensuring an element of viral marketing through new media such as blogging. Unfortunately, the split which occurred at the beginning of 2007 between the Cape Town Geek Dinner and the 27 Dinner (following a not-geeky-enough dinner at Relish) meant that the post-split Geek Dinners were sponsored by a succession of other wine companies, all of which did their generous best to come to the party; but it still seemed like a kind of me-too exercise with generic medicine. The gap seems to be closing. If you ask me, the Geek Dinners are going to carry on into the future with the Stormhoek brand, and 27 Dinners (the Cape Town ones, anyway) are going to join up at some point, or disperse into a more loosely associated series of ad hoc events, as has been pretty much happening during the past few months anyway, keeping abreast of all sorts of emerging trends in the social media space. It's just a hunch I have as an amateur Socio-Political Analyst.