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Batman Returns

Not your usual kind of day today.

With a meeting at eMedia set for lunchtime near Basingstoke, I flew the hundred miles to Popham airfield and was collected. I hadn’t been into this little airfield just beside the M3 before and found it a busy and welcoming little club. The flight had been uneventful, passing Rochester and Biggin Hill, then following the M25 to Ockham before Farnborough Approach guided me past their airspace and then left me with five miles to go into Popham.

One small victory today was that my new mobile phone works. In fact, it’s a second replacement and this time a Sony Ericsson P900, whiz-bang state of the art organiser, camera, cappuccino maker etc.

I finally managed to get the GPRS feature picking up my email, which is what I wanted in the first place. I am however trapped in a bizarre situation still, where I need two PCs to synchronise my Outlook address book.

My main machine with Microsoft Windows XP refuses to synchronise addresses. Tasks, notes and calendar no problem. Address book certainly not. As a result and repeating the same problem I had with the Sony Ericsson P800, I have to synchronise with my laptop, which does addresses only. This means that I have to use my old Compaq IPAQ to first synchronise completely between the two machines and then follow-up with the Sony Ericsson P900. Completely crazy and I don’t understand why. Anyway, it’s going to take at least six months before I discover all the features of the Sony Ericsson P900, so for the moment, I’m happy with phone calls and email.

Back home to Kent then, via Brockham for a look. A following wind had me back on the ground at Maypole, in just over the hour, a great deal faster and rather less tiring than fighting my way along the M3 and M25.



I had started work on eCrime Wales, my next project but my daughter Charlotte decided that as the tide was in and the Sun was out, I should take her swimming instead. Both of us wearing our wetsuits then, we walked the hundred yards to the beach knowing that while others would feel the chill of the North Sea, three millimetres of neoprene makes it a little more bearable.

"Why are you wearing that"? Asked a little boy referring to my streamlined Triathlon wet suit. "I'm Batman", I replied. "You haven't got the badge", he remarked perceptively. "It's being washed", I retorted.

Before we had finished though, I had to haul in four children on three plastic rings who were being blown out to sea by the offshore wind. No thanks mind you. There’s no life guard on duty until July and having been one myself thirty years ago, I could see what was going to happen when you mix a handful of unsupervised and obese children with a two knot current, a rising tide and a southerly wind. All these little beach shops happily sell these plastic lilos and life rings but each year they take their toll of adults and children off our beaches. There was a time when children were taught to swim at school but today it’s the exception rather than the rule and perhaps government hopes that if children continue to eat enough fatty foods, they may risk of heart disease but they’ll never drown. Unsinkable, like the Titanic

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