buono estente

[perlmonger]

So. We're back, after a flying visit to potential clients in Forn Parts.


Tuesday: up at 4:15am to get to Brissle Airport, where there were queues of length (apparantly, half of EasyJet's checkin staff had called in sick) followed by a last minute rush to airside where I was shaken down[1], my overstuffed bag[2] stripped to its component parts and Qu (the tiBook) sent through the x-ray conveyor for a second time.

Whatever. Sans even airport-ersatz-breakfast, we enplaned and flew uneventfully to Málaga, found a taxi driven by a man whose knowledge of English matched ours of Spanish and who, after much pointing and gesticulating at a printed email and (on his part) street map perusal, got us to the right street in Marbella. Of course, we didn't have a house number (turns out the destination offices didn't have a house number), so the final stretch had the driver guided via ramtops' batphone. €55, thank you, which isn't actually too bad for a maybe 60km journey.

Meetings all day until 8pm, aside from a break for lunch, followed by a wine-lubricated post mortem once we got to the hotel - too knackered to eat. Conclusion: the day went quite spectacularly well. Bed. Spleep.

Wednesday. Breakfast and cab to the office for 10am-6pm more of the same (with Tapath[5] in the middle. Grathiath. We really should have brought Lietha along). Looks like we've got the gig: w00t! (am I still allowed to say that?) This is a huge job, too. As big as a very big thing indeed.

Flight back not until 11pm Spanish time, so we decided to go back to Málaga in a more leisurely fashion: bus to Fuengirola; train to the airport. The bus driver was quite entertaining, particularly in urban areas - driving a bendy bus at 60 or 70 km/h down roads barely wider than the vehicle with one hand and most of his attention on sorting change. He only managed to sideswipe one car. He also had a tendency to stop the bus and stride down to the exit doors to harangue non-conformant passenger units. I had a grudging sympathy, though, as over half of the passengers were yer average melanoma-collecting Costa del Sol Brit tourist. Not an attractive species.

That's about it. Hours hanging about at Málaga Airport witing for the flight, which was uneventful apart from the landing: whoever landed the beast was clearly in a hurry to get home and dropped onto the runway rather abruptly before swerving in a way that suggested he was going to try for a Starsky and Hutch style sideways stop even before the reverse thrust kicked in. Still, we touched upon a rock selected by the automind and left a galaxy of dreams behind. Or something.

Twenty bloody quid for two days' parking; Brissle Airport seems to be getting delusions of grandeur since Continental started flying direct to Newark. Home at something approaching 1am. 20°C outside; 27°C inside. Hot sweaty night contemplating the 8-day weeks to come.

ramtops checked our mail first thing this morning (we didn't even boot our workstations last night) to find that we've got the contract to do another site we've pitched for (Young Farmers, Oooarrr). And OXILP look to be going live at the weekend, which probably means that the intranet end of that project is going to come to life now. And there are at least two more phases of IABM development waiting to be done.

I haven't got time to panic...

[1] happened last time I flew out of Bristol too; do I look suspicious or something?

[2] we managed to get all our stuff into two cabin-locker-sized bags, so no carousel watching. The downside of this was that we had to travel in Business Meeting Clothes[3], though I did leave putting the tie on[4] until we got to Málaga airport.

[3] very formal clients; no smart casual there, no siree.

[4] I can't actually remember the last time I wore a tie.

[5] Still don't like squid. Too rubbery. Unexpectedly enjoyed the octopus a lot. Mmmmm... tentacles[6]...

[6] I do hope the Time isn't Right yet; I need what's left of my brain.