Spoiler alert for anyone who’s still saving the US election night for a streaming binge over Christmas: Trump won. And, as Randi says, if Trump was going to win then we should be glad it was clear and decisive, because it’s always unhealthy when the losing side can sooth itself into passivity because it “won the argument” or wasn’t “really” beaten. There are a million arguments about why the Democrats lost – and I have my favourites! – reasonable people can disagree. What irks me is when people start from the question “…but how could people vote for Trump?”.
The answer to that question is really simple: Donald Trump was the Republican candidate. His voters pulled lever A rather than lever B, and that’s it. It doesn’t work to claim that you’re not allowed to vote for one of the two candidates on the ballot, or that you’re guilty of pathological character flaws if you do. It’s not just that blaming the electorate is a bad idea. It’s also absurd to claim that you’re defending democracy by leaving the voter with only one valid choice. That’s not a vote, it’s a threat.
I know this is disempowering because none of the Democrats chose Donald Trump to be their opponent. So what can they do? Well, one answer is to keep trying to win elections. Political parties which keep getting beaten have a strong incentive to change. But the Democrats do try to win elections, of course. Everyone’s entitled to their own pet theories about how to increase the odds. Here’s my list: Biden announces he won’t seek re-election after the 2022 midterms. An open primary selects a candidate with outsider energy and a popular theme. Internal coalitional groups stop being so self-destructive and weird. You can pick your own list, and it may be completely different to mine. Bernie would have won! Michelle Obama would have won! Taylor Swift would have won!
The point is, believing that Democrats could have done things differently is not the same as believing that victory can ever be guaranteed, especially in a world where all incumbents are losing. ‘Sometimes losing elections’ is really, really normal. I’m not writing this to be sanguine. Trump winning is very bad. But the alternate universe hovering most closely to ours is the one where Democrats lose to someone else, not the one where Democrats always win every election. If you care about a democracy in a two party system, you have to care about the health of both parties, not just your own side. To use an overly British metaphor, they are the neighbouring flat in your terraced house. You should not expect to share their taste in music. A good neighbour is not the same as a good friend! But if they have rising damp, or a leaky roof, it’s going to get you both in the end.
Ranty introduction over! If you made it through all that, I promise I’ll move on to other things too, just after recording how strange my actual 5th November turned out to be. After a day on a stationary boat – for an unrelated work event! – I ended up at a watch party with Randi’s colleagues featuring not just the usual CNN (gotta love John King’s magic wall) but also a dedicated desk of hardcore election analysts just for us. So while CNN cut to commercials, we could just wander over to the number crunchers to get the real story. Sadly, of course, none of this did anything to change the outcome and by the time we got into an Uber home at around 1.30am the trends were starting to become clear. By the end of our ride, it was obvious. Still, I’m grateful for the invite and it was certainly a memorable election-watching experience.
In between all of this Randi and I also did some emergency kitten-sitting for Za’atar at Tash and Cormac’s place in Leyton, where we also enjoyed a very tasty Italian dinner with mum later in the week. That Friday night I was also very excited for a catch-up with Jill at The Island (where I feel like she had to endure an early draft of the opening to this post) and we somehow managed to drag out our last half-pint for nearly two hours.
But, fun things aside, by the end of that week Randi and I were itching to get away somewhere and so we settled on… Bath!
The honest reason why we ended choosing Bath is because at Matt and Rachael’s wedding, several weeks earlier, I had been reunited with ex-Groupon colleague Ben and his wife Steph. When I learnt that Steph runs her own bakery and brunch place – Good Day Cafe in Bath- I sent the menu to Randi as a note for the future, and this seemed like a good time to be sharing some delicious French toast and loaded hash browns. Which we did, for brunch on Sunday, and it was great!
We also arrived with enough time for a long Saturday afternoon walk, which we both found invigorating even when Randi made a rare slip-up in her directions and we had to climb under some barbed wire to avoid a 25 minute walk through a long, dark tunnel. (Which, to be fair, looked really cool. It just wasn’t the outside-in-nature experience we were looking for.)
That evening, we met up with Randi’s friends Will and Zoë for dinner at an excellent pizza place, followed by drinks elsewhere, followed by an oh-my-god-we-can’t-get-rid-of-them walk back to their house for even more drinks around the kitchen counter. They’re both super fun to hang out with, and when we eventually took ourselves back to our BnB (by phone torchlight) we were both suitably uplifted about the world.
After brunch at Steph’s café we thought it would be silly not to visit the Roman Baths of Bath, which (I later learnt) I apparently visited as a child but have no memory of. There have been no swimmers here since a child was killed by a waterborne infection in 1978, but there is a decent audio guide which guides you through the Roman development of this hot spring into a full-blown leisure complex featuring hot baths, cold baths, gyms, wine and poolside snack vendors.
The best part are the curse tablets: bitchy notes inscribed into metal by ordinary people asking the goddess Sulis Minerva to curse someone else, usually after a theft. For example: Docimedis has lost two gloves and asks that the thief responsible should lose their minds and eyes in the goddess’ temple. (Very level-headed, Docimedis.) Our absolute favourite author wasn’t actually sure who had stolen his property, but named about eight potential suspects like a stressed-out supply teacher. It’s wild to still have access to this bottled-up rage nearly 2000 years later.
On the way home on Sunday night we had some engineering works on our Overground and did what any normal couple would do: split up to race home via two completely different routes. Sadly, I don’t think this record will last 2000 years, but here’s a teaser in case I can somehow fool the far future into thinking that everyone did this:
Finally, while Randi is in Wales for the weekend, I met up with Josh, Anna and Cora for lunch and a stomp around Golders Hill Park . A perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon, even after being magically transformed into a rabbit-frog-tree.
Exactly eight years ago, after watching the Cubs win the World Series, I wrote:
I fully expect the election of America’s first female President to follow next week. But just in case…. here was the high before the low. Look how happy we were!
So, OK, lesson learnt. This time I’m not expecting anything. But I will stay very hopeful for all of our friends and family who have been working, volunteering or raising money for Kamala. We appreciate you! 💙
Going even further back in time, I have a whole collection of nostalgic memories from my late teens or early 20s filed under ‘being dragged to a gig in Camden’ in which Josh, Abbi or some combination of the two had a band they really wanted to see playing at the back of a pub. So it was very strange a few weekends ago when we popped over to the Fiddler’s Elbow to see Randi’s colleague Terrie, and her band The Red Queens, for a Sunday night set.
It felt like very little had changed – aside from not needing to take out cash to cover the entrance charge anymore – with the same restrained nodding from the black t-shirted crowd around the stage. But I really enjoyed it – not least because Terrie’s band was great! – and I hope we see them again soon.
There were more blasts from the past this month at Matt and Rachael’s wonderful wedding, including reunions with former Groupon colleagues Sam and Ben as well as Matt and Clark’s old flatmate Emily. Unfortunately, Emily had to run home early to look after a nervous dog, so the following weekend I headed to Crawley for a proper, unhurried catch-up in her local pub plus a first-rate tour of Crawley’s third most impressive park. (I only have this ranking on Emily’s authority, and I have to say I was surprised at how nice Crawley’s third best park actually was.) This was a super fun evening and a good reminder that you never know when you might see someone again!
Finally, I’ve seen a few things:
- Coherence, the latest film recommendation from Katie from the “when Randi’s away” list. I really, really liked this sci-fi thriller about a dinner party gone awry when a mysterious comet causes its guests to start shifting between alternate realities, even if it did leave me a little paranoid that an alternative reality Dominic would try to break in and murder me overnight. Would recommend, especially because the director has been willing to answer many detailed questions about the plot in helpful YouTube videos.
- The Real Ones at the Bush theatre. My first thought immediately after seeing this was “maybe one of the best plays we’ve seen here?”, and then I had to second-guess myself because maybe I always feel that way. Regardless, this was a fantastic production centered on the friendship between Neelam and Zaid, two British Pakistanis from Ilford who we originally meet as 19 year olds before their lives spin off in different directions. It’s hard not to love these characters, even if Zaid is ultimately more self-destructive, and there’s something very moving about a play which treats the rise and fall of a platonic friendship with the same seriousness as a grand romance.
- Statues, also at the Bush, in their smaller studio space. This is a two-man show about loss, grief and code switching, as English teacher Yusuf is shocked to discover that the silent father he’d known had once been a boisterous rapper for life, love and liberation. This felt like a very personal play, written and performed by Azan Ahmed, and together with Jonny Khan he shifted between the characters with incredible skill. I especially appreciated their endearing portrayals of teenage speech and body language, with just the right balance of affected nonchalance and earnest self-expression.
Well, this is it. I’ll hit the publish button, and then by next time we’ll all have discovered which future those critical swing voters in Pennsylvania or Wisconsin or Nevada had in store for us. Good luck…
Last week I returned to Amsterdam for Booking.com’s annual Travel Tech conference for software partners. The event itself was great, and this year I was super happy to be joined by Kira who (a) could split the technical roundtable sessions with me, (b) was willing to indulge my late night craving for pizza. Thank you!
Since the conference finished on a Friday, we took advantage of the weekend by having Randi fly out to meet me in Amsterdam on Friday afternoon and then catching the train tother to Haarlem, a nearby city which Randi’s parents had really enjoyed on their recent trip to the Netherlands. (And when I say ‘nearby’ city I mean really, really nearby – this is a small country and nothing is far apart.) Anyway, Haarlem is lovely! As it happens, Randi had just upgraded her phone so you can appreciate it through some artfully refined photos which I have stolen for this post.
After an evening stroll along the canal to the local windmill and a great Italian meal, we retired to our boutique hotel suite (the ‘sardine’ suite – probably not the name I’d use for any hotel room but actually very spacious) and slept soundly before waking up for an early-morning run into the countryside and\or sleeping some more.
Later that morning we enjoyed some tasty savoury crepes from a café on a pretty little side street while watching the cyclists go by. The centre of Haarlem follows the typical Dutch street layout where the ‘road’ and ‘pavement’ aren’t sharply delineated from each other, which sounds scary but works because the cars have been completely tamed. Sure, there are a few going by, but for the most part everyone is on their bikes, with many kids either cycling alongside their parents or sitting happily in a trailer. It’s both beautiful and a little infuriating. This isn’t a fantasy utopia! It’s just the Netherlands!
Afterwards we took the bus to the beach resort of Zandvoort, admired the plaques commemorating the great and good of Zandvoort (often with local notes along the lines of “his uncle still lives in Zandvoort”) and took a stroll along the sandy beach. We got very lucky with the weather this whole weekend, and despite it being October could enjoy cocktails at a beach bar as if we were on some tropical island (with jumpers).
On Saturday we also admired the interior of the local church, popped into a board game café and had dinner at Kokkie Londo, a Javanese restaurant with a set menu, delicious food and a very cheerful chef who tours the tables to talk about his food with an infectious laugh. Finally, back at our hotel, we curled up on the sofa with some complimentary wine and chocolate to watch a Norwegian police procedural (with Dutch subtitles) and Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? (which still throws me with the new lifelines). It makes me a bit sad that enjoying random TV from another country is now archaic, and I don’t suppose anyone younger than us would ever think to do it. Still, Google Translate was very helpful for translating the quiz questions, even if we still didn’t know whose cabinet was brought down by the Night of Schmelzer in 1966.
We spent most of Sunday at the nearby Zuid-Kennemerland National Park and decided to rent bikes from the visitor centre. Despite several staff members reminding us that helmets aren’t compulsory in the Netherlands – and basically nobody thinks to wear them – we insisted on paying extra so that all the other cyclists would see that we were stupid tourists.
While I definitely got quite sore by the end, riding around the park was so lovely and peaceful, and the occasional detours out of the park onto nearby roads only underlined how exceptional the cycling infrastructure is here. For any main road there’s just always a dedicated cycle lane, with no awkward missing gaps or theatrening car traffic. It felt completely safe, and quite magical.
The price for such a relaxed Sunday was a very late flight back from Amsterdam and then a taxi from Heathrow, but it was a price worth paying for such a full and enjoyable weekend in Haarlem. A final word of appreciation goes to the German-themed Wurst & Schnitzelhaus near the station before we left, with some fine German beer and the staff all complete in dirndl and lederhosen. In fact, the Dutch seem to be particularly fond of dressing up in restaurants, with everyone in Indonesian outfits on Saturday night at our Javanese place. It feels vaguely inappropriate, but is obviously considered to be a critical part of the theming.
In retrospect, flying back to London on Sunday night was a stupid plan because on Tuesday morning I was back out again on a stupidly early Eurostar to Paris for a work event. In mitigation, Eric was over from the States so it was great to see him in person again and catch-up as we caffined ourselves up to being fully awake. The event itself was fantastic – always excellent to meet some of our customers in person, share what we’re working on and gather feedback – and in the evening we all went to the famous (and joyously French) Moulin Rouge cabaret show.
Back in London again, on Thursday we gathered almost all of eviivo’s R&D department in person for an offsite meeting, roadmap kick-off and pub evening together. It’s always a bit surreal when this happens, as seeing everyone from Zoom in person feels a bit like a reunion with characters from a computer game. But I really enjoyed chatting to everyone – too many to name here! Finally, this weekend Randi and I congratulated Caroline and Josh at their pre-baby bash, before joining Reema at a nearby pub in Streatham for a catch-up and general work\life updates. Sadly, we could not cycle home afterwards. But if we were Dutch, we would have cycled home. Sigh.
After having their original London travel plans scuppered by Covid back in 2020, last month we were finally able to welcome our New York friends (and regular companions on European jaunts) Mike and Melissa to the city. Melissa came armed with a list of food recommendations from a friend, and happily our inaugural pub dinner at The Mayflower was able to tick off both ‘fish and chips’ and ‘sticky toffee pudding’ in one outing. Later – partly because Mike got confused about the currency exchange situation and thought we were still in the Liz Truss era – we also enjoyed fancy dinners together at Rovi and Dishoom.
Our other big outing together (unless you’re counting the Bakerloo line) was to see Hadestown, a musical retelling of Orpheus and Eurydice which was recommended by my colleague Annie and has actually been floating around for many years without quite entering my consciousness. In case you’re unfamiliar with the Ancient Greek myth, Orpheus is a musician in Ancient Greek mythology who loses his wife, Eurydice, after she is bitten by a snake and dies. (Well, this is what I learnt in my children’s illustrated book of Greek myths as a child. In some tellings, Eurydice only steps on the snake because she’s fleeing from a satyr who is half-man, half-goat and fully obnoxious.)
In this musical the journey to the underworld is a little more interesting, as a desperate Eurydice bargains her life away to Hades while Orpheus is simply too distracted by his music to make enough money to survive. Either way, a grieving Orpheus uses the power of his music to travel to the underworld and persuades Hades and Persephone to let him take Eurydice back to the world of the living. The answer, surprisingly, is yes… as long as he doesn’t look back at Eurydice on his journey until he’s made it out of the underworld. Orpheus takes the deal and is almost back home when he faces a crisis of confidence and turns around to check that Hades hasn’t tricked him. Fleetingly, he sees Eurydice behind him for one last time before she is pulled back forever.
As you might imagine, both Randi and I find this moment incredibly frustrating and exchanged a mutual look of exasperation in the theatre when it happened. The game theory is not exactly complicated:
| Look back | Don’t look back | |
| Hades is honest | No Eurydice | Eurydice |
| Hades is lying | No Eurydice | No Eurydice |
But this irrationality is Orpheus’s fault, not that of the musical, which was lots of fun despite the inherently downbeat ending. For me, the central couple were a little outshone by the secondary characters such as Hades and Persephone, and my absolute favourite performance was the messenger god Hermes. This role was played in the West End by Melanie La Barrie, and it’s a little jarring on the Broadway album to hear it in a man’s voice.
Awkwardly, the show also includes a song from Hades entitled “Why We Build the Wall” which feels like a painfully unsubtle anti-Trump statement, even though the writer is at pains to point out that it was written back in 2006 and wasn’t intended as a reference to Trump at all. Still, Hades in this musical is a brutal industrialist – ransacking the natural resources of the planet and exploiting the labour of the masses – and in general it’s done well, even if sometimes it teeters on the brink of becoming a generalised anti-industrial critique. And I’m always suspicious of anti-industrial critiques becoming performed in expensive West End theatre shows.
Anyway – back in this industrialised land of the living – some of our other exciting London outings during this jam-packed weekend included a trip to the Crystal Palace dinosaurs and an impromptu stop at Gordon’s Wine Bar! Hopefully we will get a chance to see them in New York in the not-too-distant future, especially as I discovered that they now live near the New York Transit Museum…
Talking of transport, the following weekend Randi and I were back in Crystal Palace for the open day of the restored Crystal Palace Subway. This was a beautiful Victorian walkway linking the old Crystal Palace High Level station (closed 1954) with the actual Crystal Palace itself (burnt down 1936) and it was very cool to see how much work has gone into the space. That evening, completing the theme, we headed off to the London Transport Museum to see The Truth About Harry Beck, a strange two-handed play about the inventor of the Tube map (sorry, diagram) and his wife Nora. It’s a bit of a sad story, with an obsessive Harry losing all credit for his design, which is also told brilliantly in Jay Foreman’s video. But there are also lighter moments of audience interaction, and the relationship between the pair is very sweet overall.
September also included Reema’s birthday tapas (including her super-cool mother and aunt) and a weekend away to stay with Randi’s friends Andrew and Mark, who live in a village about a 20 minute drive from Nuneaton. Their house, which is the kind of massive classically-inspired renovation project they feature on Grand Designs, is so incredibly tasteful and beautiful I felt obliged to change into a buttoned shirt when I arrived.
By a great coincidence, I happen to be reading The Odyssey at the moment, so having Andrew on hand as a fully-trained classicist to answer all of my stupid questions was incredibly helpful. We were also fed with Mark’s delicious homegrown vegetables fresh from their garden and taken on a tour of where the Battle of Bosworth Field took place. This is no more my area of history than Ancient Greece, but helpfully the partisans of Richard III have placed their own signs around the site to lament his loss of the crown to Henry VII. It’s unclear to me why they still feel they have a dog in this fight.
This basically wraps things up for September. In my next post, I’ll catch-up with our October travels!
Hello blog! I’m typing this on my delightfully fresh new laptop, which – thanks to the really decent longevity of my former laptops – now joins an impressively short list by becoming only the fourth I’ve ever owned. It’s also my first non-Intel laptop, using an Arm-based processor instead, and the good news is that Windows now does a decent job of emulating most older software so making the switch is pretty seamless.
The big exception is supposed to be gaming, and although I’ve never done much of that, the process of setting everything up did make me think “hmm, but what game would I even want to play anyway?”. And then it hit me: Crash Bandicoot. I have a childhood memory of staying up all night with my sisters at someone else’s house – I forget whose – watching them play Crash Bandicoot on PlayStation and being quite envious that we didn’t have a video game console at home. But surely now, with an exciting and expensive machine from the far-future sitting in front of me, I might finally be able to play it? And the answer is… yes! It turns out the series was remastered a few years back, including for PC, and my Arm laptop is able to pretend to be an Intel laptop cosplaying as a PlayStation without any complaints. Of course, I am obviously quite rubbish without all those childhood years to practice, but while Randi’s been in South Africa on a work trip over the past week I’ve been having a great time smashing boxes and jumping over things.
It didn’t take Randi and I quite as long as this to crack open the Dominion: Empires expansion we were gifted a few years back, but now that we’ve had more weekends together we’ve finally had time to play a few games, and it’s been really fun diving back into Dominion and – in this expansion specifically – wracking up debt to buy new and exciting cards. We also had an indulgent tapas dinner together at Good as Gold in Brockley, which Randi had been eyeing, ordering almost twice as many dishes as the more restrained couple next to us. I’ve also been able to enjoy watching Doctor Who all over again! (Memo to the universe: there’s no law saying that Doctors are term-limited to three seasons, and I’d be very OK with Ncuti pushing the boat out here.)
For the August Bank Holiday weekend we went to see mum in Exmouth, where Randi felt an influx of holiday vibes and suggested that the three of us take a cycle ride together along the river to Topsham for a drink. As only a very occasional cyclist I was still slightly nervous on the way there, even though the route is almost entirely along a quiet cycle path, but fortunately it turns out that having a pint is immensely relaxing and I enjoyed the ride home with a lot more breezy confidence! (Note: this is not driving advice.) Shout-out also to the pub in Lympstone where we broke for a very enjoyable dinner on the way home, before quickly taking to our bikes to avoid losing all the light completely.
On Sunday we reverted to our feet for a circular walk around Otterton, and then settled in for the evening to watch Nyad – a biopic about distance swimmer Diana Nyad who successfully made it from Cuba to Florida on her fifth try in 2013, aged 64, after an initial attempt back in 1978. There’s very much a Steve Jobs-like quality to Nyad, which means you can either sit back and admire the incredible achievements – and sheer force of will – or you can start to unpick things by noting that she sometimes treats other people very badly, and isn’t always completely truthful about her accomplishments. To be clear, I don’t think this is a problem we need to stress out about: the world does need people like Steve Jobs and Diana Nyad, and even if there are a lot of grey areas around the events of 2013 (Guinness World Records later renounced its certification of the record as an ‘unaided’ swim, not that you’d know from the film) nobody disputes that Nyad is an incredible athlete who made it through shark-infested waters after swimming for over two days straight.
Other recent things have included a fascinating conversation with fellow QPCS alum Munnawar (in which we definitely went way, way beyond the scope of what the phone call was supposed to be about), serendipitously catching some of the Paralympics opening ceremony with Tash and Cormac (after buying nine Magnums, to make a point) and catching dinner with Bronwen and Josie at the Honor Oak.
With Randi, I also finally watched Mean Girls. It’s been a least a decade after I first said something like “hmm, I should actually watch this film so I can appreciate all of the memes better” and by this point half of the fun of watching a teen comedy from 2004 is laughing at all of the many, many things which would no longer be deemed acceptable in 2024. (Hey, that’s the nature of comedy, after all – for something to be funny it normally has to lie somewhere on the boundary of good taste.) But it was good. I endorse Mean Girls, at least the original, although I do not endorse serving school lunches in brown paper bags.
Without Randi, I also followed Katie’s recommendation and watched Ecstasy of Order: The Tetris Masters. As you might deduce, it’s a documentary about a group of people who are really, really good at Tetris. What’s interesting is that the whole thing is self-consciously inspired by The King of Kong film from a few years earlier (which I also watched recently) but the people taking part in this one have clearly taken notes and don’t want to come over as “cheats, sycophants or sanctimonious self-appointed referees” (©Me). Instead, for the most part the Tetris community comes across as much more supportive and lovely than those Donkey Kong bros.
Finally, I’ll leave you with this fortuitous last-minute meeting of the ways at Casa Tua, James’s spiritual home near King’s Cross!
