So today, the reason my job is paying for me to be here began. There’s not a deal you can say about the conference – one line summary is, I went, it was OK. Most of this year’s conference, the ‘theme’ if you like, is about a technology known as containerization, which is something we don’t do at all as yet. I find it quite interesting, brilliant even, but I struggle to figure out how we might deploy it in our current setup. I did manage to score a free mini-tankard from the HP stand in the dinner break though!
Down in the breakfast area this morning there were suspiciously more men in the 30-50 age bracket than there had been all weekend. Sure enough it wasn’t long before I spotted a LinuxCon Dublin tee shirt from last year, so it looks like my ‘business’ crowd are all arriving, with many of them choosing the Ibis hotel instead of the super expensive conference one. I had no idea what plans some of them may have had, but I knew what I was hoping to be doing.
I started my travels today by riding out to the Berlin Wall memorial, which is the longest bit of surviving wall. Getting slightly cocky with the transport system now, I took the U1 from in front of the hotel, swapped to the U6 heading north at Halleschers Tor, then off at Naturkundemuseum for the start of a 10 minute walk to the wall. I then messed this up by walking entirely the wrong way from the U-bahn for 5 minutes, which is about the time it take google maps to re-orient itself when exiting from underground.
It has been a funny day today, I think mostly because I’ve felt a bit off colour like I am starting with a cold or something. I didn’t feel ill, just not right and very, very tired. The weather didn’t help by being that persistent sort of spitting rain, on and off all day, and you’re never quite sure whether to have your brolly up or down. The tiredness wasn’t due to lack of sleep ‘cos the bed was very, very comfy. Breakfast was included in the room rate and was the usual continental mixture of rolls and cheese and cold meats and stuff like that (and yes, there was Nutella).
I do like flying from Doncaster-Sheffield Robin Hood Airport at Finningley; it’s small, human and efficient in a way that is totally belied by its polysyllabic name. That morning I had left my home in Sheffield at the scary hour of 4.30am, but somehow ended up airside in the departure lounge sat eating a bacon butty at 5.30am and wondering what I was going to do with the all spare time until the flight. In that first hour I’d managed to drive the 30-odd miles to the airport, park, walk to the terminal, check in a suitcase, clear both immigration and security and order, pay for and receive said bacon butty. Not a bad start to the trip.