6March1998

Friday, 6 March 1998
My dear folks,

Can it be that I have not written to you for a full week? I guess it must. Not that you have missed much. Mainly I’ve been working – long hours too. It’s the norm to arrive early, take a short break & leave late. We all commune silently with our computers, lost in our little worlds! The bustling gang at World TV, on the other side of the glass windows, say we look like a lot of librarians. Be that as it may, I have not only settled into Online, I even spent a day inducting another newcomer into its mysteries. He was luckier than I was for, having fallen through most of the trapdoors, I was well placed to advise him where not to put his feet.

I’ve still much to learn but at least I can fly the thing now. I’m still getting to grips with the audio editing software & I haven’t touched the video editing programme. We have specialists who do most of this work although we’re all expected to be familiar with it. It’s been raining lots. I got wet two mornings in a row & sloshed my way along the corridors to Online in my bright yellow waterproofs, looking like an oilrig worker.

On Wed I cycled into town to renew my South African passport which runs out at the end of this month. On the last occasion it was a relatively painless process. This time I found myself filling out numerous lengthy forms that demanded to know all kinds of impossible details of my wife’s and parents’ history as well as my own. Then I was fingerprinted, five & five. I thought I might as well apply for the new 10 year passport until I learned that it would take 3 months to issue. This is now the prerogative of Pretoria. The days when I had a passport renewed in 15 minutes (I happened to know the embassy minister) are gone for ever. Three weeks, I was told, if I was lucky. And £14 to fax the application to Pretoria!

I fell into conversation with the fingerprint lady who had been posted in London for 23 years & remembered the Dawie de Villiers era with me. We both remembered the dignitaries who’d occupied the ambassador’s office in the 80s. She relaxed sufficiently to muse over the twists of fate. “The people who used to demonstrate outside on the pavement are now inside running the high commission,” she informed me. It might be more interesting to know what had happened to the people who used to be inside, making discreet free drinks available to the London constabulary who ensured that the demonstrators toed the line. “We look after our friends,” as one of them once confided. Not that it did them much good in the end.

Stef caught sight of me yest. as I was setting off for the bank. She said I looked so miserable that she felt compelled to invite me to supper last night. I didn’t know that I was looking down but I was pleased to join her & Herman. He turned out an elegant tuna steak & salad while we plotted our futures. They have been outgrowing their garden flat where they both work as designers, he in the study, she in the bedroom. They made approaches to purchase the flat above them but without success. She does all the computer work while he uses more traditional methods. They’re in great demand from artists & galleries & do lots of fat glossies.

I’m reaching the end of Steven Pinker’s language book where he mocks the elegant grammar rules developed mainly by the Victorians to distinguish the well-bred from the working class. He’s no time for those offended by split infinitives or dangling participles. That would probably come as good news for a lot of my colleagues who couldn’t tell a participle from a propeller shaft. I confess I still throw up my hands at some of the mangled constructions that even BBC journalists are regularly guilty of. But then our prejudices are our oldest friends and it’s a cruel person who robs us of them.

I work Sat/Sun from 1100 to 2100. I’m off Mon/Tues; the rest of the week I work shifts that begin either at 0600 or 1400. I responded to an ad in my computer mag for a free ticket to the Windows 98 exhibition at Olympia next week. It’s a saving of £15. The downside is that everybody in the computer business gets your details to flood you with emails & offers.

Sampson could be heard barking loudly as I chatted to Jones this evening. She had planned to join friends for a dinner party but had her plans disrupted by a leaking pipe that required emergency attention. She’s had enquiries from one or two potential guests down there & I’ve had a steady dribble of responses this end to our latest ad in the BBC magazine. We’ve still got gaps either side of the 3-month high season but it’s looking like a busy year.

Blessings
T