Electric Dreams - a journey through four decades of technology

As a rule, I don’t normally promote organisations I’ve previously worked for, but as someone who is both a self-confessed gadget freak and has an interest in all things historical, I thought others of a similar bent might be interested in a new three-part series called Electric Dreams, which starts on BBC Four next Tuesday (September 29^th) at 9pm.

The premise is simple enough. It takes a modern, tech-savvy family of six in Reading – one which has five mobile phones, six televisions and seven computers between them – and transports them back to 1970, a time when most homes had only a single black-and-white television (affording access to three – count them, three! – channels) and a single dial phone. During each programme, they are then progressed through the 70s, 80s and finally 90s, with new technology being introduced into their home at the rate of a year per day.

Having listened to an in-depth preview of the series on this week’s Guardian Tech Weekly podcast, the programme promises some interesting observations on the impact technology has had on our lives and the way we interact as families – some of it good, some not so good.

If nothing else, it will be an interesting trip down memory lane, to a time when teasmades and freezers were the new must-have gadgets, the Welsh made home computers (anyone remember the Dragon 32?), and YouTube was part of the plumbing that connected your toilet to your drains.

I’ve just used my mobile phone to remotely programme my Sky+ box to record the series, and in true 21^st century style I’ll probably get round to watching it in about six months’ time …

Holiday perspectives

With the school holidays over, we took ourselves off to Cornwall for five days last week, for what will probably be the last time as a family of three.

On a friend's recommendation, we booked ourselves into the Bedruthan Steps Hotel, located between Newquay and Padstow on the north coast. (If you're ever heading to Cornwall and looking for a family-friendly hotel, the Bedruthan is fantastic - a short (though steep) walk from a good beach, separate children's meal sittings and entertainments, plenty of indoor and outdoor play areas, baby monitoring, basically everything a parent could possibly want.)

Being mid-September, we didn't have any great expectations weather-wise - I'd have been more than happy with a couple of dry days - but in the end we couldn't have asked for better. It was warm, dry and largely sunny throughout, enabling us to get down to the beach whenever we wanted, as well as incorporating visits to the zoo, the aquarium and Padstow (where Rick Stein's restaurant is: a pretty but really very dull little town). With the hotel looking after the catering, we didn't have to worry about preparing any meals for Zac; he was able to burn off his abundant energy splashing around in the sea, building sandcastles, or playing with any of the hotel's many child-focussed distractions: the soft-play room, the giant trampoline, the see-saw and swings, or - best of all - going up and down repeatedly in the lift (go figure).

(In fact, the only thing we didn't really manage to do was to get ourselves out to eat at Jamie Oliver's Fifteen Cornwall in nearby Watergate Bay, but that was relatively minor in the greater scheme of things.)

Holidaying with a small child in tow is certainly very different to doing so without one. Before Zac came along, we spent most of our spare time travelling across the world from Washington DC to Wellington NZ, at least 2-3 foreign holidays every year, always haring around everywhere seeing as many things as we possibly could in the limited time available. We have stood on the edge of a volcano crater in Tongariro and in the remains of Pompeii, a town devastated (and subsequently preserved) by another volcano, Vesuvius. We've towered above the surrounding land on the Great Wall of China, and peered into the abyss of the Grand Canyon. We've seen great displays of art: the Sistine Chapel in Rome, the Mona Lisa in Paris's Louvre, Picasso's Guernica in Madrid, MoMA and the Guggenheim museums in New York. In short, we've had a great time just doing stuff.

Now, though, things are very different. The biggest thing I want from a holiday is to see my boy smiling, laughing and running around excitedly. If that means spending 15 minutes every morning and evening getting in and out of lifts, that's fine by me. My needs are very much secondary compared to his, and if it's a cliché to say that you see the world differently through a child's eyes, then that's only because it's absolutely true. He is busy exploring a whole new world around him, and if it's now a part of my job description as a father to help him discover his surroundings, then that's a role I'll gladly accept. I've seen my fair share of wonders in this world; it's time I helped my son see the myriad of little miracles in his small but ever-expanding universe.

Some things never change, though. After five days of cooked breakfasts and three-course dinners, I have returned home having (as usual) gained weight at the rate of a pound a day. So it's bread and water for me for the next few weeks ...

Halfway house

It's my 39th birthday today.

I can't remember when exactly, but there must have been a turning point at which birthdays stopped being a cause for celebration and started becoming a reminder of how another year had passed without fulfilling any of my big life goals.

There's a Lily Allen song ('22') out at the moment whose lyrics really resonate with me:

When she was 22 the future was bright

She's nearly 30 now and she's out every night [...]

It's sad but it's true how society says her life is already over

There's nothing to do and there's nothing to say

The average life expectancy for a UK male is now 77.7 years which means that, statistically at least, today my life is half over. I may live longer than that; conversely, like my friend Sam, my life could end much sooner and more abruptly than that.

When you're younger, you feel invulnerable. The future looks bright, you've got your whole life ahead of you, and you're most likely at your peak health-wise. I know I felt like that; I wasn't especially fit, but I played a lot of sport, had loads of energy, and the spectre of arthritis, cancer and a million and one physical ailments were tiny dots on a distant horizon.

Over the last two or three years, though, I've been reminded that this is no longer the case. While I'm not in bad health, I've put on a lot of weight which I can no longer easily shed. I can't sleep on a hard floor any more - as I have done to help Isaac get back to sleep on a number of occasions recently - without waking up with backache. I've been diagnosed with a couple of (relatively minor) conditions which occasionally cause me slight physical problems, and four times I've developed what could have been early symptoms of cancer but have thankfully proven to be innocent inconveniences.

So I'm no better or worse than many men of my age; I'm hardly a paragon of virtue, I should really lose 20-30 pounds, but there are plenty of people in a worse physical condition than me. Basically I can essentially live the life I want to live the vast majority of the time; I just can't do everything I would like to do.

Having just re-read the last few paragraphs, I sound like an aspiring Victor Meldrew, don't I?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not at all unhappy. Waking up this morning to be greeted by a loving wife and a beaming son wanting to blow out the 'dandles' on my 'dir-day dake' was the best present I could possibly have asked for. But what I've gradually come to realise over the last few months is that I need to spend less time worrying about the day-to-day stuff, and more time concentrating on the things that actually make me happy.

There is a well-known theory developed by the American psychologist Abraham Maslow called the 'hierarchy of needs', which serves as a model to explain human motivation. The hierarchy is usually expressed as a pyramid, with each level following on from the one below it.

Maslow postulated that as humans fulfil their needs at each successive level, their motivations shift to the next level in the hierarchy. For instance, once you have met your basic 'physiological' needs (e.g. a roof over your head, food and water, basic health), you move on to 'safety' motivations (getting a job, having a basic level of fitness etc) and so on.

What I've realised is that I've been stuck in the 'esteem' phase for quite a while. I suspect many professional people do: get good qualifications, get a job, get a better job, climb the greasy pole, get a pay rise, get a promotion, don't stop until you've climbed as high as you can possibly go, retire.

And that's the nub of any unhappiness I have every birthday. I'm not one of those people for whom my career is the be-all and end-all of my existence. Sure, in my twenties and early thirties it was a big focus for me, as I moved up Maslow's hierarchy from 'safety' (first job) to 'belonging' (move jobs, get married, cover the mortgage) to 'esteem' (get my MBA, keep moving jobs, more disposable income). If I look at where I am now, I have a job I enjoy (most of the time, anyway), my work-life balance is pretty good, I have a young family, and I earn more than enough to pay the bills, buy stuff I want to buy and still put something away for a rainy day.

In Maslow's terms, I'm ready to move from 'esteem' to 'self-actualisation'. Or, at least, I will do if I give myself permission to do so. It's the itch I'm desperate to scratch evey year.

It takes quite a bit of effort to put the nagging guilt to one side, though. There is constant pressure to do more at work (especially in these recessionary times). There are always bills to be paid, chores to be done, all the minutiae of everyday life. And there is always tomorrow to do everything on my aspirational wish-list. But you know what? The world doesn't stop if I don't do all the day-to-day stuff right now. And if I keep waiting for tomorrow, it will never come.

I think that's one of the reasons I've started writing so much again recently: it's how I am most comfortable expressing my creativity. I find the process of writing a blog relaxing and fulfilling - it's certainly more fun than filling in yet another spreadsheet! I've always wanted to write a book - I've started and stopped twice before, paralysed by fear of failure - and yet the other night I sat up for two hours at 3am beginning the process all over again. (Third time lucky, eh?) Why not? Publication, which is more of an 'esteem' need, is not my goal; I write because the simple act of writing is satisfying enough in itself. Self-actualisation is the name of the game.

So, anyway, I stand here today at the theoretical halfway house of my passage on this mortal coil. Maybe I've wasted some opportunities already, but I still have a whole load of life left to do the things that really matter to me.

It seems like a pretty good place to be. I'll take that. It's certainly reason enough for me to celebrate rather than mope today.

Why social networking is a good thing

It’s partly the geek in me, but there’s something about the social networking phenomenon which intrinsically suits my nature as someone who has always been a writer rather than a talker.

Until recently, the term ‘networking’ generally had a more business and career-related connotation: it was about having the right conversations with the right people at conferences and trade shows, or handing out business cards while collecting those of others who might prove useful contacts in the future.

Not any more.

‘Social networking’, as the name suggests, is much more about maintaining and expanding your network of friends, keeping you in touch on a more regular basis, and enabling new connections to be made with other people who share a common interest, whether it be pregnant mums-to-be, fans of the same TV programme, or fellow gamers. (You’ll probably be aware of many of the names and buzzwords already: Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, Bebo, LinkedIn, Club Penguin, the blogosphere, and so on.)

But whereas in the ‘real’ world one would collect business cards, addresses and phone numbers, now one accumulates ‘friends’ (as you do on, say, Facebook and MySpace) or ‘followers’ (Twitter’s measure of personal currency).

As an example, this is me. I’m not particularly exceptional: ordinary 30-something guy, office job, a few deep interests, with a slight tendency to be a relatively early adopter of new technologies (i.e. mildly, but not World of Warcraft-level, geeky).

I have my ‘real world’ networks, of course. Family. Friends from university nearly 20 years ago (sadly, I’ve lost practically all touch with my old school friends). Current and former work colleagues. Friends I’ve made through sports. Friends of friends, that sort of thing.

But then I also have my ‘virtual’ networks. Some of my real world friends are here: social networking becomes a way of keeping up to date with people I see infrequently or who are now living on the other side of the world. (For instance, I have a good friend who now lives in New Zealand, who I have seen three times in the last six years, but with whom - thanks to Facebook - I am able to maintain some level of communication at least weekly.) But they are also places where I interact with people I have never met (and probably never will), but where friendships have formed because they are, say, fellow Arsenal fans. In many ways, these can be as close as - if not closer than - my ‘real’ relationships: I have a couple of online friends who I communicate with on an almost daily basis.

So, anyway, at the risk of looking like a bandwagon-jumper, here are the various social networking tools I have signed up to (most used first):

- Twitter, which I use in part to keep up with a handful of friends and to let them know what I’m doing, but mostly as a means of virally picking up and sharing relevant news

- Facebook, which is more about communicating and sharing photos with a wider circle of friends

- Blogger, where I have both this, my personal blog, and a ‘Sporting Reflections’ blog where I indulge my twin passions of sports and writing

- At work, I have recently started using Yammer (like Twitter, but with private company networks) and an intranet-based blogging tool to share ideas

- LinkedIn, for professional networking

- Audioboo, which is the voice-recording equivalent of Blogger

- I am also registered on MySpace, Friends Reunited and a couple of football-related forums, but I no longer use these actively (there are only so many hours in the day …)

Of course, online networking will never be a substitute for genuine human interaction, but in a world where our personal contact list of friends, acquaintances and business associates is flung further and wider than ever before, social networking allows us to maintain at least a basic level of interaction with large numbers of people in a way that has never been previously possible. That can only be a good thing.

Why do I write?

Personal motivations are not always easy to explain.

We were at a barbecue on Sunday afternoon when, unprompted and completely independent of one another, two friends (R & A) went out of their way to compliment me on my other, sports-related blog. A even went so far as to ask if I had ever considered trying to get myself published.

A little well-meaning flattery never did anyone any harm, and I went home that evening with my chest metaphorically puffed out, grateful for the fact that two busy, well-educated and highly literate friends (R works in the City; A is a doctor-in-training) not only took a few minutes of their time to read my occasionally coherent ramblings, but thought enough of them to spontaneously praise them.

When asked why I choose to write, my typically inarticulate response was to shrug and say, “I just like to write, that’s all.”

Equally pertinent was the follow-up question: where do I find the time? After all, with a young toddler who is somewhat high maintenance when it comes to (not) sleeping, a reasonably busy job, and a constant lack of time which is a source of permanent frustration and complaint, it’s a question I often ask myself.

I suppose the simple (and obvious) answer is that it is something I am motivated enough to do that I prioritise it over other activities: I watch less TV than I used to; I spend less time conquering virtual worlds on the Playstation; I read less. (I also spend less time doing household chores than I ought to, as Heather is constantly reminding me, but then who doesn’t?)

And the fact is that writing a blog post takes less time than many people imagine, particularly when it is something that comes from either the heart or a deep interest rather than a sense of obligation. (That’s my excuse for why it takes me so long to produce stuff at work, anyway!)

On average, I will post once a week to each of my two blogs; sometimes more, often less. A typical post will be between 800 and 1,000 words and take on average 45 minutes to write, rarely more than an hour (unless the topic requires some heavy research). That’s a similar length to your average newspaper article, which I daresay journalists rattle off more quickly than I do and with the added pressure of print deadlines to meet.

(As an example, I’ll do a word count and time-check at the end of this blog.)

So, in reality, I spend a couple of hours – the duration of a football match – blogging in an average week. Not so much, really.

I’ve found that the simple act of putting finger to keyboard on a regular basis keeps the writing ’muscle’ well-practised and in good nick. I’m still not someone who can bash out a piece from start to finish in one seamless motion – I’d be rubbish if I had to write on a typewriter – but I’ve definitely learned how to crank out readable output more quickly than when I first started blogging. My style is somewhat, er, ‘organic’ (for which, read ‘chaotic and disorganised’): my modus operandi is that the absolute maximum I will start with is a theme, a couple of key discussion points, and a picture of what I want the final paragraph to be, but other than that I allow the structure and flow to evolve on its own. Start with an idea and the words will follow would be my motto. I know it’s not how all the manuals advise aspiring writers to approach their art, but it works for me. With experience, I’ve learned to trust my own voice and ability, and just enjoy the process of watching a blank page fill with a narrative which gives me a huge sense of satisfaction when I finally hit the ‘publish’ button.

And that in itself is perhaps the best way I can answer the question of my personal motivation for writing. Some people write to share or show off their expertise on a particular topic as a way of enhancing their reputation; others chase ‘hits’ on a blog or website as a means of validating some kind of personal currency. I do it because I find it is a good way to blow off steam, because it is a way for me to express myself creatively, and because I find it personally satisfying. Everything else – readers, comments, praise - is a nice bonus, but it is not a primary motivation. Many people write for others; I write for me.

So there you have it. I just like to write, that’s all.

(Word count: 790. Time: 41 minutes. See, it doesn’t take that long, really.)