Oratory

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I can't quite remember when I realised how much I love listening to someone speak well enough about a subject to move me. There's a bit of my brain that gives the credit to West Wing, but realistically, it's probably more closely related to the many years I spent in various churches listening to sermons when I was a kid. That's not to say that I love to listen to sermons - I don't - at least, not for the religious content.

I suppose what I enjoy is being moved, and when you listen to someone who is passionate about their subject speak well about that subject, you can't fail to be moved in some way.

I want to be inspired. I want to learn. I want to feel. I want to care. I want to leave the room a changed person from the one who entered.

A couple of months ago, I downloaded all the available audio podcasts from the TED conference. Ever since, any time I go to the supermarket, I plug in my headphones and listen to a TED talk. I've walked and bought groceries listening to people talk about literally everything under the sun - and above it too, and there hasn't yet been a talk that I've skipped because it was boring. I've had my mind blown while buying broccoli and been inspired while trying not to buy ice-cream. Some of the topics have been things I wouldn't have chosen to listen to had I been on the site and given the choice, but the randomness of the method has opened my mind to things I'd never have thought about otherwise.

It's been fabulous, and I'm not even done with them all yet.

A few weeks ago, I came back from a days work at a client site and I was just exhausted. I flopped on the sofa with my station-bought salad and was idly flicking through the channels when I stumbled across the opening couple of minutes of The Speaker.

I stopped because it was a competition about public speaking specifically involving teenagers, but I have to admit that I was a little bit doubtful about how it would pan out. I wasn't sure that Oratory Idol was a format that could work, but somehow, it did.

It was Stacy (who will forever in my mind be "the gobby one") talking about her life that stopped me from flipping on to a different channel but I think it was too-cool-for-school Haroon's speech that made me put down both my fork and the remote and really pay attention, and from that point on, I was hooked.

I was inspired. I learned. I felt. I cared. It changed me.

It was compelling in a way I didn't expect. I lived and died with the kids as they worked their way through the tasks given to them. There were more than a few occasions where it was so uncomfortable that I couldn't bear it and had to get up and leave the room, and I was more affected than I thought I'd be when some of my early favourites didn't make it to the final.

I've always said that I hate being the centre of attention - and that's true up to a point, in that it depends what kind of attention. Watching The Speaker reminded me how much I've grown to actually enjoy being a Speaker myself, and throughout the series, I actually learned a lot. It's even left me wanting to learn more - to the extent of seriously considering joining a Toastmasters club to get more experience and hone my skills.

I know I'm never going to be Jed Bartlett from The West Wing, or Barack Obama, but I really hope that one day, I'll be able to look back and not only feel, but know that I was able to educate, inspire or move people the way I've been moved by many of the Speakers I've listened to.

Storms

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I was going to write about something else. I came up here with a clear idea in mind of what I was going to write. So much so that the words were lining up politely in my head, ready to come out one by one.

Then it rained.

Not just the pitter patter of light refreshing spring rain.

Oh no. It rained.

Biblical rain.

Apocalyptic rain.

Proper Scottish rain.

Then came the thunder.

I'm not sure if there was lightning, as I dived under my desk at that point.

Well, not really, but storms do make me nervous, even though I'm an adult, indoors, in a house that can most likely withstand pretty much anything barring a freak hurricane.

The thing is, when I was a kid, I was actually blown away in a storm.

I was about three years old, and we were on my way to see my granny, who lived in a flat at the top of a hill. It was a nasty night. The rain was pelting down and the wind was really high.

I can't remember exactly what delayed my mum and dad at the car after I was taken out of my car seat (it may have been getting my baby sister out of hers), but rather than wait for my parents to take my hand, I toddled off, eager to see granny (most likely for the sweeties she kept in the inner pocket of her handbag).

I must have been struggling to walk, with the high wind pushing me towards the building, but somehow, even that didn't make me wait, and as I stepped beyond the edge of the building, a huge gust of wind caught me and lifted me clear off my feet, up into the air and down the road, depositing me unceremoniously into the path of an oncoming car, while my parents gawped, panicked and my dad ran to try and get the attention of the driver and stop him from running me over and squashing me flat.

Since I'm writing this, I obviously didn't get squashed, but I did get very scared, and grazed hands and knees, and ever since then I've been anxious when it's stormy.

Tonight, I'm not so bothered about the high wind, I'm more bothered about the broken gutter outside my bedroom window, which just happens to be directly above the plastic gas meter box - a combination which produces remarkable amplification of each and every single drop which lands on it.

It's going to be a long night.

Dad

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62.365: Dad

I remember listening to Radio 4 in the car on the way home from wherever, and sitting in the car outside the house because we were halfway through "I'm Sorry, I Haven't A Clue" or somesuch, and we wanted to hear it til the end.

I remember going to computer fairs and buying bits and pieces and building computers together on the kitchen table.

I remember how every visit to anything had to include a stop for a "cup of tea" which almost always involved cake.

I remember "The Goon Show" re-enacted, voices and all.

I remember sitting on wooden stools in the kitchen until my bum went numb, watching the TV or talking about things.

I remember the flat bottomed handwriting, because he always wrote against a ruler, except near the end, and that shaky, unflat handwriting still breaks my heart.

I remember the stupid Tandy beachball that blew out of my hands on Lossiemouth beach and running into the North Sea after it, afraid I'd get in trouble for losing it. I remember him running after me to stop me from going too deep, and telling me it didn't matter, but that he wished I'd dropped his (unread) copy of the Glasgow Herald before I ran into the water.

I remember having Dr Seuss read to me when I was ill with tonsilitis.

I remember him cooking "proper" fish and chips in batter at home once, when mum went away for a couple of days, and how it felt so rebellious and tasted all the better for it.

I remember him telling me to go live my life and not put everything on hold waiting for him to die.

I remember so much.

I miss him so much.

I can't believe it's been seven years.

Getting out more

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After a year of working from home almost exclusively, I'm going to be spending the next two weeks (maybe longer) working at a client's offices near Euston. On one hand this is great. With HFBB being away in Poole during the week, if I'm not careful, I can go days without speaking to anyone face to face. While I'm quite happy with my own company (and that of the internet) up to a point, I've been getting increasingly dissatisfied with rattling around the house on my ownsome all week. So the chance to get out and about during the day, and embrace the randomness that is life outside the front door is something I'm quite looking forward to. I'm also looking forward to the photo opportunities, because frankly, I'm almost out of things to photograph indoors, and while the tree outside is beautiful, there are only so many photos of blossom one can handle.

On the other hand, I've spent the last year not having to get dressed up to get to work, spending most of my time wearing jeans (once I'd got beyond the "working in pj's because I can" stage) and combined with some physical changes as a result of being on something of a health kick over the last year, it means the wardrobe is almost literally bare when it comes to work-wear. Luckily the place I'm going to be working isn't a full-on suit and heels kinda place, but I still had to do a bit of an emergency dash along Lordship Lane on Saturday. I managed to find a couple of suitable things that weren't ridiculously over-priced, but I will still have to hit the shops to get me to the end of the week. I'm also not entirely looking forward to the commute. In theory, it should be nice and easy: train to London Bridge then Nothern Line to Euston, but there's enormous potential for disaster in that deceptively simple route.

It'll be a bit of a shock to the system to get up and out the house that early every morning. It's not that I lie in bed til noon every day - I'm usually awake by 8 and at my desk by 9, but it's going to be a little strange dancing to someone else's beat again.

I should really be in bed by now, but I'm not nearly sleepy enough, so I've been trying to kill the time usefully by preparing everything for the morning.

Outfit: check. Accessories: check. Camera: check. iPhone: synced and charging. Knitting: check. New Moleskine: DISASTER! No fresh Moleskine available. How could this happen?! Shoes: choice narrowed to two pairs. Final decision pending. Bag: available selection unsatisfactory. Compromise chosen and packed.

Sorted.

Except for the sleep bit.

Damn.

Formula 1

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I know who is responsible for my indoctrination into the world of F1, even if I can't remember exactly which year it was. I know that it became a thing, to plan weekends around the coverage. Saturday lunchtimes are about qualifying, Sundays are all about the race.

The build up starts slowly. A lazy sunday morning spent either in bed, or pottering around making breakfast to take back to bed depending on whether we've got company or not. Then comes the move to the sofa to watch the start of the coverage. If we've got company, I'll sometimes do some preparation for a big roast dinner while this is on, stopping when they interview Jenson Button (my favourite) or Lewis Hamilton (who caught my attention for the last couple of years while Jenson was languishing in crap car hell) or if there's anything particularly contentious or controversial happening.

As we get closer to the start, I begin to locate the various bits and pieces that are necessary to facilitate the required race experience: snacks, drinks, knitting and Sharky.

Sharky was a forgotten. I rescued him from the IKEA Warehouse in Wembley very late on Friday night and he's my "don't break stuff" surrogate. When things get tense or stressful, I grab Sharky rather than breaking HFBB's fingers, and when things get reallytense or stressful, he has been known to fly. Across the room. At the TV.

But I digress.

It's a tradition. Post-race is for talking about the race, eating Sunday dinner and trying to forget that we're on the slippery slope downhill to Monday.

I don't know why I'm gripped by F1 but Touring Cars leaves me cold. I think I've only missed one, maybe two races in the last several years. I even watched a race on Arabic TV while on holiday in Crete (the most bizarre part of which was that the commentator was actually Scottish and kept switching from Arabic to English with a Scottish accent and it distracted me no end).

I was gripped two years ago when Lewis Hamilton came on the scene and blew everyone's ears off and nearly won the Championship. I was gripped last year when he blew everyone's ears off again and nearly lost the Championship and I'm most definitely gripped again this year, now that my beloved Jenson looks like he's back in the running.

I'm so gripped, I'm even contemplating staying up for the next couple of hours to watch the practice session (now it's being broadcast as part of the shift in coverage from ITV back to the BBC) just to see for myself if Jenson's got a hope in hell or not.

The thing I'm most excited about though, doesn't have anything to do with the actual racing. Oh no. After enduring the godawful ITV F1 theme music from the last few years, I literally cannot wait to hear the "dum, dum dum dum dum dum dum dum dum duuummm" of The Chain start up.

So come Sunday, I'll be on the edge of my sofa, clutching Sharky, hoping for a great race. Keep your fingers crossed the soundproofing between my house and next door is decent.

I might get noisy.

Thought-provoking posts on Accessibility

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There have been several really thought-provoking posts about accessibility made over the last week or so, and while I'm marshalling my thoughts (and the several thousand words I've written in response) into something coherent, I thought it'd be worth linking to them. Accessibility to the Face from Northtemple

Here’s my point–if your brother or sister had a disability, you would give a crap. But you don’t have to have a sibling in a wheelchair to genuinely care, even if it’s only in your work.

Empathy is what separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom. We have an ability to imagine things the way that others see them and how it makes them feel. We don’t even have to have a disability ourselves.

And from my perspective, accessibility is about giving a crap.

Accessibility is NOT a checklist.

Accessibility is about usability.

Accessibility is a paradigm shift.

Accessibility is a personal issue.

If you read none of the other links in this post, read this.

Commentary on Sign Language and Accessibility from The Deaf Perspective

Quid pro quo. The loose translation for the Latin expression is “you give me something, I give you something.” We give the world accessibility to our community, our language, and our unique perspective. In return, everybody understands more why accessibility is so important for everybody.

When is the Right Time for Accessibility from Derek's Box of Chocolates

Is it possible to include accessibility support “too early?” I’m not saying it should be an add-on at the end of the process/project/product development cycle, but I’m very seriously wondering what the optimal time for integrating an actual accessibility implementation is? Is it enough to keep accessibility architecture in mind from the beginning, but not implement right away? Should we get the basics right first, and then build in accessibility support based on that previously envisioned architecture after we know we have a viable product? We continue to say that accessibility should happen throughout rather than just at the end, but would it actually be better if we left it out, just for a little while, at the beginning?

Is Web Accessibility a Human Rights Issue? by Wendy Chisholm

It’s important for us to recognize each other’s concerns. On the one hand we have technologists who want to create things to help make the world better–help people communicate more richly and quickly, to create technologies for self-expression and commerce. Rock on. We want you to innovate because you’re changing the world. On the other hand we have people who want to use the technologies and to participate in society. When the technologists say, “Don’t make me think about accessibility, I want to be innovative.” The response from people with disabilities can be hostile because the message from the technologists is, “I do not value you enough to include you in my innovation.”

TIFI: 19-25 March

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Some of the things I found interesting between the 19 and 25 March. Sadly, having roughly 100 tabs open between two windows in Firefox tends to quite seriously bork things, and I lost more than half the tabs I had open. Which, if nothing else, is a reminder that I should clean out the tabs more often. But anyway, on to the good stuff.

These women

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A few of the women who've inspired me, in honour of Ada Lovelace Day.

Heather Champ

Even before I started blogging, I read Heather's blog. I did then, and still (to some extent) do, want to be her when I grow up. I've been inspired for many years by her design skills and photography, and couldn't help but be something of a dork when I finally met her in person at SXSWi 2007, and then again at the Yahoo Open Hack day.

Donna Smillie

Donna started off as my boss, but became a dear friend and mentor, and without her support and encouragement, I probably wouldn't be where I am today.

From writing data analysis programs in the 1970s she took a somewhat circuitous route on her way to RNIB, where she started the Web Accessibility Consultancy and created the See it Right standard for web accessibility, which has more than stood the test of time. See it Right remains a practical and achievable standard and has been used by many organisations across the UK and internationally to make the web better for people with disabilities. She cares deeply about the needs of people with disabilities, but has always had the ability to take the wider view and identify solutions that meet the needs of businesses too.

Bim Egan

Bim and I applied for the same job (that of Web Accessibility Consultant) and thanks to some forward thinking by my manager at the time, we both got it. She is a fantastic example of ability over disability. She has a wonderful way with words and I've learned a huge amount from her over the years.

I have no doubt that she will continue to rock the accessibility world and lead the See it Right standard on to greater heights.

Lynn Holdsworth

You probably haven't heard of Lynn, but her talent as a web developer, willingness to find a solution and determination to get the job done have been an inspiration to me. She is another fantastic example of ability over disability. I'm honestly not sure I could listen to JavaScript through a screen reader day after day after day.

Glenda Sims

Glenda is one of the most positive people I've ever met. Her enthusiasm is infectious, whatever the subject she happens to be talking about. I can't imagine anyone failing to be inspired and enthused after spending just a few minutes listening to her talk, especially about accessibility.

I've learned so much from these and many other women over the years. I could continue writing for much longer, but there's other things I have to do with my day.

In such a male dominated environment, I can't help but feel that it's a good thing that I can think of so many women who are excellent role models. I count myself very lucky to have had the opportunity to learn from them, and even luckier to count some of them as my friends.

Battlestar Galactica

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I'm a big nerd. A really big nerd. I'm nerdy in many, many ways, and one of those ways is Sci Fi. I think it might be something I got from my dad (who, against my mother's wishes, let me watch Dr Who when I was 3 years old). My introduction to the web was actually mostly through Sci Fi (although back then it was the Sci Fi/Fantasy Media Forum on Compuserve, specifically the Star Wars section), before I caught the Babylon 5 bug.

The B5 bug was a serious one, and it got so bad I even went to a convention (and the internet is so fantastic that not only are there still convention reports from people I was there with hanging around, but there's also an entire Wolf 359 photo set on flickr).

But B5 ended, and the bug faded, and other things took over - most notably West Wing, which I love with a passion beyond reason, and have rewatched in its entirety several times - but I still needed some good hard Sci Fi satisfaction (which sounds a lot dirtier written down than it did in my head).

Then along came Battlestar Galactica and blew my mind. I remember watching the Mini Series on Sky One, and then watching the repeat. I still deeply appreciate the gift of the Season 1 and Mini Series DVDs, at a time in my life when things were really shitty. I've held on through ups and downs through this show (and my life) and I'm both sad that its ending and eagerly waiting to see how it ends.

After more than two years of protesting that he didn't like the shaky camera work, I finally persuaded the HFBB to give it another try, and apparently, a 42" telly makes all the difference, and he loves it. We've been gulping it down in multi-episode chunks, seemingly unable to stop mid-disc, and have caught up to the last few episodes of Season 3.

I wanted to wait to watch the second half of Season 4 with him for the first time, but I just couldn't. With the advent of twitter, it's almost impossible to stay spoiler free, and I'd rather re-watch it with him and try not to give the game away than be spoiled myself.

I'm just about to watch Episode 19 of Season 4, and the final episode is shown tomorrow night in the US, and Tuesday in the UK, so in case I'm too depressed by the end and forget to say it out loud...

Farewell BSG. It's been frakking awesome.