Archives for April 2023

I’ve written about Parkinson’s law a number of times before. The simple idea that “work expands to fill the time available” is one that resonates with a lot of people.

I’ve since started seeing Parkinson’s law crop up in other situations too, and I’ve categorised these as my “in the wild” sightings.

For example, items packed always expand to the baggage allowance purchased.

Or the amount of ice cream eaten by one’s nephews always expand to the size of the cup or cone provided.

Of course, these are cheeky observations of the law in action, but part of learning the effects of a new law is seeing it play out in our daily lives in unique and comical ways.

There’s almost no drink that’s made better with boiling water. At boiling point, things burn and things get bitter.

The goldilocks “just right” temperature for most hot drinks are 10-20 degrees cooler than 100 degrees Celsius. The teas are sweeter, and the coffee richer.

Stopping the kettle earlier, or having a variable temperature kettle, makes hot drinks orders of magnitude better.

Tiny margins can make a huge difference. Especially at boiling point.

I’ve decided to bite the bullet and sign up for Chat GPT Plus. It’s $20 per month, and gives access to Open AI’s GPT-4, as well as priority access when the servers are overloaded.

It’s clear generative AI is going to play a massive role in the future of work, and although I’ve been following the online chatter, I haven’t used Chat GPT in any meaningful amount over the past 3-4 months. Instead I’ve continued to use Google, finding and parsing information myself.

I want to deliberately stop using Google for a month or two, and switch completely to Chat GPT. I want to see what the experience is like for a full search engine replacement.

However, there are a few exceptions, such as when I’m looking for real-time information, as GPT has an information cut-off date of Sep 2021.

I’ve already been using it to plan so travel itineraries, sense check my ankle rehab plan, and to quickly digest the backstory on some Argentine art.

I’ll report back at the end of a month or so of usage.

The last month has been one of, if not the most, joyous times of my life. To have so many family and friends join Maru and I in Argentina for our wedding was beyond what I hoped for.

However, the party is coming to an end. My family flew out over the past couple days, and Maru and I are returning to the UK at the end of this week.

We both realise, and can rationalise, that all good things must come to an end, but it doesn’t make the goodbyes easier. The approach we’re taking is to appreciate all the details, interactions, and moments we lived, and to channel our energy into immense gratitude that they happened.

Maru and I were walking her family dog this evening, and I was commenting on how attached we—the human race—are to our dogs.

I marvelled at how we selectively bred and evolved wolves over thousands of years to be our closest, domesticated companions. I then commented how interesting it was that dogs had such little say in the matter.

Maru then turned my observation on its head. Perhaps its the dogs that have been playing 3D chess all along. Evolutionarily speaking, they’ve done exceptionally well. They’ve collectively convinced humans to provide them with all the shelter, food, and affection they need to survive and thrive. And us humans are willing to provide all of it without hesitation.

Of course, both observations are deliberately simplistic, but they hint at a symbiotic relationship that is hard to describe, but is so evident went felt.

Back in 2014, I made a mistake after a particularly bad ankle sprain: I relied on my crutches for too long.

After two weeks of crutch usage, I found it extremely hard to regain range of motion and strength in my ankle.

This time round, although though the sprain wasn’t as bad, I’ve also opted for a different approach.

I iced, rested, and elevated my foot for the first day, but on the second day I used compression strapping and started putting weight on my foot. I tried to carry out my day as normal, just walking slower than normal. On the third day, I tried to return to normal range of motion, and resorting back to a bit of hobbling with any onset of pain.

Although I haven’t been following any specific medical advice, I have been listening to how my ankle and foot are feeling and adjusting accordingly.

I’m thrilled with how my recovery is progressing, and am pleased that I’m not repeating the same mistake I made in 2014.

The email newsletter software I use scans my blog at the same time every day, takes the latest post, and sends it to readers.

In other words, the train leaves the station at the same time each day.

Sometimes, I’m dressed well; feeling put together. Other times, I feel disheveled and out of sorts with myself.

Still, the train leaves the station. To maintain the streak, I need to turn up on time, with a post in hand, without fail.

I think there is something powerful about turning up rain or shine, and simply hopping on the train for that day with the best that I can muster.

I went out on a run today through Parque Municipal Llao Llao. It has an excellent set of trails that run alongside the lakes and afford a great view of the surrounding mountains.

I was about 2.5kms in when I sprained my ankle. I was distracted by the stunning views and tripped on a tree root. I checked I hadn’t broken anything, and thankfully I could still put some weight on my leg.

However, there was no signal, nor was there nearby road access. So as the sun was setting, I decided to retrace my steps along the trail to get back to the house.

I managed to find a large stick to help me hobble back, and the adrenaline enabled me keep a reasonable pace. I arrived about 15 minutes before nightfall, and Maru immediately put ice on my ankle.

It’s been so long since I’ve had an injury that perhaps I got a little lazy on this run—thinking it wouldn’t happen to me, and allowing myself to be distracted by the views.

Thankfully, this wasn’t a serious injury, but after thinking about how it could’ve been much worse, it made me think twice about how I should take a bit more care in letting people know where I’m running and for how long they should expect me to be gone for.

A few of us went horseback riding today. The folks at Tom Wesley in Bariloche run a smooth, professional operation.

The gauchos leading the tours have sun-beaten faces, are draped in their ponchos to keep out the winter cold, and always have their Yerba mate drinks to hand. Their horses are impeccable—well cared for, clean, and healthy. And the ride took us through both forest and mountain tracks, with a mixture of trotting and cantering.

I asked Marcelo, our guide, how long he’d been working for the outfit.

With a wry smile he replied, “A lifetime.”

He then went on to describe his forty years helping people meet horses and explore Patagonia. But what I liked most was his unit of measurement. In two words he described decades worth of work, and thousands of hours of commitment.

It’s rare to find such levels of consistency, but there’s a different gravitas and oomph when we do.

We’ve got a polaroid camera with us on our family trip to Patagonia, but we only have 10 instant films left.

Although we all have our phones that can take great digital photos, it’s been fun searching for those 10 special moments during our 5 day trip.

I always marvel at what constraints—artificial or real—do to bring out our innate creativity.

With a polaroid camera, not only are we left with instant physical reminders of memories, but we’re also finding and capturing moments that we may have otherwise missed.

Give everyone a camera, and they’ll snap a moment slightly differently. As a group, it can allow us to capture things we otherwise would’ve missed.

When working in teams, we often try to quickly settle on a shared point of view, but we risk doing so before we’ve heard from everyone.

Sometimes we can get better results by letting everyone’s film develop before forming our shared perspective.

Maru and I are opting for a delayed honeymoon. We’re saving it for next year.

In the meantime, we’re going with our immediate family (on both sides) to Patagonia. There’s 17 of us in one house for 5 days!

We’re unlikely to have all members of both sides of our family in the same country again, and we saw this as an opportunity to create a unique set of memories.

There are some experiences that are only available to us in specific windows of time. It’s up to us to identify them and take them.

When there’s no safety net, we turn up differently.

We muster more courage. We’re more dogged. We can take more pain.

If the wind, rain, sleet, and snow is lashing our face, and there is no place to stop for the night, we narrow our gaze and are all the more determined to make it back to the warmth of our home.

The past two days have been a whirlwind of joy, emotion, and celebration that is difficult to put into words. Maru and I have created memories with our loved ones we will cherish for a lifetime.

They say we don’t remember the memory itself, but rather the last time we recalled the memory. As the years go by, we risk the memory becoming distorted as bits fall out of the narrative.

So I’m setting aside time today to pen down the experience we lived. It’s not just the big things, like the ceremony itself, but all the small details—especially the small details—that I want to remember. Precisely because there are some interactions and moments that cannot be told through a photo or video, but only through the words of those who lived the experience.

That’s what I’m focusing on today, and time will tell whether it works as an effective time machine back to our special day.

Maru and I are getting married today!

There are a million things happening, and because I want to focus 100% of my attention on her, our families, our friends, and on enjoying this day that we’ve been patiently waiting for since 2019, I’ll be brief.

I could not be more sure of my decision to marry Maru, and I look forward to this day, and all our future days together, with a profound sense of gratitude, hope, and excitement.