October 25 2006

I blog from the shadow of the towers of St Mark's Basilica, as they fall across the Venetian lagoon and lay on the upper deck of my boat, moored in the quiet little marina island of Certosa.

Across the water, across dozens of barcas and vaporetti dashing back and forth, lies one of the most famous, most beautiful and most busy cities on earth, and we sit in near silence just metres from its shores, the boat gently rocking, the blue-green waters lapping and the engine slowly turning over to heat the water for a shower.

We arrived in Certosa yesterday evrning after chasing glorious sunshine down the idyllic River Sile to the lock at Portigrandi, then out into the lagoon.

We had flown into Italy on Saturday and spent the day trying coffees, pastries and ice creams in Casier before picking up our Crown Blue Line Classique and taking it an hour south of the base to moor in the national park, at the edge of the village of Casale.

We slept to the sound of wild birds and were woken by the bells of a Catholic mass from the huge church that crowds the river bank.

Our Classique had given us a fantastic night's sleep, and we wandered into the village to buy pastries for breakfast, Italian style.

When the morning mist lifted from the willow trees dangling their branches in the water, and rose high enough above the square bell tower so we could see how bright and hot a day we were going to have, we unmoored and followed the river downstream to the next village, where we found shops to fill the boat.

The journey, four hours, is peaceful and drains any stress of travelling. The waters of the Sile trickle into our past like fond memories, the day grows warmer as we sit at the wheel heading rowards the Adriatic.

We thought we'd shopped the day before, but most of it turned out to be fantastic red wines, meats, breads and cheeses that were our lunch on the green banks of the Sile, so the shops were a welcome discovery.

And then on to Venice. The trip across the lagoon is easier than expected. We stoped briefly at the northern island of Burano, then pushed on to the main attraction. And here we sit, waiting a few minutes for the barca to take us into the city.

Just enough time for another coffee and pastry... ciao neil

October 20 2006

Wow. The Herald has gone from writing headlines to making them.

Our head camera footage from Sierra Leone has won the Herald and thisisplymouth praise and column inches in the national press, and has been recognised as a global exclusive innovation.

But more on that later.

I write this blog from the Internet Desk at the Radisson Hotel at Stansted Airport, while waiting for my flight to Venice. Huh, the life of a Web Editor. A bit like Hemingway, but without the bullfighting and suicide.

Just a brief blog to update, given that my last was filled with the doom and gloom of Friday 13th.

Yes, those problems rumble on. Sanderson Motorhouse gave me a courtsey car.

The courtesy car broke down after 48 hours (it had everything except reverse, and I guess that could be important).

Finally on Friday, hours before I was due to drive here and days after the first car broke down, the ever patient Sam at Sanderson told me they had a Ford Ka. Great.

I could fit one of our six bags in the boot. Not Great. Hey, at least it reverses.

The dying Renault Laguna, which coughed and spluttered its last on Friday 13th, is now in pieces at Evans Halshaw, sister garage of Sanderson.

They've stripped it down. And that's about it. Yes, I know its been seven days since the car broke. I'm sure there's some rational, complicated reason only mechanics and not mortals can understand.

Of course, they told me two days ago the paperwork was all in place. Then hours before today's hol they told me it wasn't. But, I'm on holiday, nothing can get me down.

I'm in a good mood. Partly the Radisson's £5.50 a glass 2002 Californian Shiraz. Mostly all the attention thisisplymouth has been getting.

The Guardian ran a hugely positive blog on us today, thanks to the unique headcam footage, as did trade journal Press Gazette.

Look out for more coverage in the days to come, but The Herald and its website were today recognised as global pioneers. Our website is among the best in the world. Ahhh, satisfaction of a job well done.

But, I'm not resting on my laurels. Keep coming back to thisisplymouth in the weeks to come for more world-news making innovations.

I sign off, with promises to blog from Venice if the wine and ice cream don't get in my way.

Friday the 13th

I file this blog from a locked and darkened room where I sit armed with a bottle of organic cider. So what am I hiding from? Friday the 13th, which I don't believe in.You don't believe? So what's with the cowering? Who mentioned cowering? But more to the point I've found today that with Friday the 13th, like with other people's religions, you don't have to believe for it to get you into trouble. And yes, I realise that statement could get me into trouble, but after the day I've had, a fatwah couldn't be much worse. At the ripe old age of 32 I've lived through many Friday the 13ths, and have come through each one unscathed - until today. So what was different - well this one ambushed me. It wasn't until half-way through the afternoon I even realised it was Friday the 13th, by which time the day already had its claws into me. It was at this time it was pointed out to me that several of the stories I had added to thisisplymouth had the wrong date on. A minor annoyance, quickly solved, but it came shortly after several important functions on thisisplymouth had been down for a couple of hours, and shortly before I noticed several others weren't working either. All quickly solved, with the help of technicians in Derby, Exeter, London and Mumbai, but then again it seems Friday 13th respects the workplace, so it didn't really kick in till I clocked off. Granted, that was an hour and half after my allotted finish time, but I put that down to a blind dedication to the job, rather than Friday the 13th. So what happened next? Well just a few miles out of work the car cut out. Dead as a pretty blond virgin in a Friday the 13th film. I had just enough time to try the ignition a couple of times, check the petrol gauge to ensure I hadn't run out of fuel (my usual trick) and to pull the car right into the most awkward place on the road before it rolled to a stop. And where did this happen? A quiet and safe little back road, or the busiest, hard-shoulder free junction of the A38? You guess. So there the car sat in the fast lane, while I took shelter behind a tree shouting into my mobile trying to get the AA woman to understand where I was."Marsh Mills!" I shout. "Marshmellows?" She replies. "Marsh Mills." I shout "Mars Hills?" She replies. This goes on for some time. When she finally gets it, a truck is dispatched. While I wait, I survey the broken bumpers, bits of glass and halves of registration plates that litter the grass verge. Pondering this detritus of a dozen or more crashes, I try to figure out whether the AA truck will get to my car first, or whether it will be an articulated lorry. I consider dashing back for my ipod. I don't consider it for long. Fortunately it's the AA truck that gets there first. Unfortunately the mechanic tries the ignition once and tells me my timing belt's gone, probably bending all 16 valves and it will probably cost me an arm, a leg and a couple of pounds of flesh. Ahhh, Friday the 13th, how I love you. So is that it? Not by half. The AA man tells me he can take me to a garage in Totnes, drop off the car, and take me home. But he can't take me to Sanderson Motorhouse in Plympton, drop me off, and take me home. Why? I foolishly ask. Ah, he foolishly explains. The logic is twisted and baffling, involving work schedules, emergency call-outs, a route home and a breakdown in Crownhill. By this stage I should be getting infuriated, Instead I'm getting cold, and fearing that if I start to argue the AA man might leave me by the side of the road. Unlikely, but this really hasn't been my day. So I drop the car at Sanderson, from where it was bought at a bargain price a year ago, with the warning that it may not still be under warranty. Of course not. "What about a courtesy car?" I ask. "No chance," I'm told. At this stage the young lady behind the counter looks up and catches something in my eye. Suddenly a Vauxhall Corsa becomes available - so long as I have insurance to cover it. A quick call to my insurance company. A 20 minute wait. Another quick call to my insurance company. Another 20 minute wait. Sanderson lady informs me she is about to go home, locking up, leaving me car-less. Another quick call to my insurance company and Friday the 13th decides to let me have this one. Insurance sorted, car key in hand, I hit the road again leaving my Laguna, bent valves and all, in the hands of mechanics who can't look at it till Monday. Probably for the best. Look at it today and the thing'll probably explode. Half way home I realise that while I have retrieved my ipod, I forgot the doohicky to connect it to the car radio. Which means for the foreseeable future I can no longer listen to the 'Teach Yourself Italian' I downloaded. Which means that when I hit the caffes of Venice later this month, and try to order espresso in Italian, I'll end up saying things like "Excuse me doctor, may I please have half a battered cat and a small Bolivian traffic warden. No thanks, I'll pay for that in squirrels." So I make it home. Three hours late. My daughter, who was in bed when I left for work, is in bed by the time I get home. The chicken, which was for dinner, has inexplicably gone off in the fridge. So off I pop to the local food emporium in the courtesy car. No probs inside, but leaving I realise I have no idea what the car looks like, what the registration number is, or where I parked. Ah well, must go, I've run out of organic West Country cider. I'd go to the kitchen for a top up, but the fridge has been looking at me funny. I'll keep you informed on the car front (I'm sure you're just dying to know), and I haven't forgotten to tell you about the organic custard hunt or the onion skin dilemma. Overall, I think I'm fortunate not to believe in Friday the 13th. I hate to think what it would do to me if I did.

Video sharing

While last year we would have done anything to avoid sitting down in a darkened room to eat fondu and drink cheap Chianti while the neighbours talked us through their slides of hols in Tenerife, now we can't get enough of downloading any old tat people care to share online.



Video sharing is 'the new black' when it comes to Internet use. So much so that YouTube, the internet video sharing site set up less than two years ago, has just been sold today for $1.35billion. Sites like this allow people to share their content, video, pictures, audio or text, with a global audience quickly, simply, for free and with little technical know-how. And people have taken to it like ducks to orange sauce.

More than just sharing files, they allow people viewing the site to choose which content is best and, by rating it, create a well-ordered list of best content.

YouTube and its new owner Google Video have excellent search facilities (hey, it's Google, what did you expect), but what if you want, say, a site full of great Plymouth videos, pictures, audio, etc. Well then, how about the Herald's www.makingplymouthgreat.co.uk , which went live this week.

So what's with all the self-promotion, I hear you cry. Ahem.

Well makingplymouthgreat, which shall henceforth be known as MPG, is a truly unique project in its desire to become a digital time capsule, and it is partially inspired by one of the biggest and quickest success stories in internet history.

YouTube. No, calm down, its not an insult. For those unaware (have you been hiding in a cave?) YouTube is a site that allows people to upload and watch videos, any videos. Like You've Been Framed on a global scale, without Harry Hill's 'comedy' commentary. Sound dull? Don't fancy watching someone's dodgy home videos?

Look, granny's tripped over the cat, again. "Another fractured hip Nan? Ah well, the £250'll come in handy."

Or maybe its more like buying a second-hand VHS tape from a car boot sale and only guessing what's on it from the scrawl on the peeling label.

Well, maybe.

And Google has just spent, or agreed to spend $1.35billion on that second-hand video tape found under a pile of tea cosies.

YouTube, still not an insult, has risen from nothing less than two years ago to become the dominant force in internet video sharing, and was today bought by Google for approaching one and a half billion dollars. YouTube has also signed deals with big media companies Sony BMG, Universal, Warner and CBS to carry some of their vast libraries of video footage.

When I say dominant, almost 50 per cent of all video watched on the net is watched through YouTube. Not bad for a site started in garage by two hippy-types, and run from an office populated by rats for several months.

Some 72million individual users view 100 million clips a day.

So what will Google bring to the mix. Shed loads of cash.

And more. Google Video is a great site in its own right, having an 11 per cent share of the online video market. So that will be merged. You will probably be able to search for

YouTube videos direct through Google. And you will probably be able to download those videos.

Google will bring a level of expertise and experience that should help YouTube overcome potential copyright issues which could have generated Napster-style problems. (great site, closed down by the big boys because people were illegally sharing audio files, now back, fully legit)

Of course it is possible that this takeover and the big deals with temper the kind of content you get on YouTube. That remains to be seen. If so, other sites will rise in its wake and attempt to steal its crown. (is that a mixed metaphore?)

So what does all that mean to the man in Royal Parade? Online video sharing will continue to grow in dominance. We are no longer slave to the television, being told what to watch and when to watch it. We are generating our own content, and users are deciding how good it is. Their votes elevate it to the top of the list, so more people watch it. This is the way of the future. With Google's weight behind the process it should only accelerate.

And if the man in Royal Parade is a hippy-type with an urge to create a new website, it means you better get on with it.

So, ahem, back to the self-promotion. MPG. You probably have some great pictures or videos on your mobile phone, digital camera or laptop. Maybe they give a glimpse into the heart and sould of Plymouth. Maybe you want other people to see them. Not only is MPG a place to share you videos etc. with anyone who cares to watch, it is also a project which will create a digital snapshot. All the content, basically video, picture, audio or text examples of what you think makes Plymouth great, will at one point be archived. That archive will then be sent around the world and into space.

The whole universe will get to know what you think makes Plymouth great.

Video sharing eh? Clever stuff. Think I'll buy a site.

Anyone got a spare $1.35billion?

IN OTHER NEWS

A new online TV channel broadcasting political news has been launched. 18DoughtyStreet Talk TV says it will revolutionise political and internet broadcasting. Personally, I'm sticking with downloading clips of exploding Diet Coke bottles on YouTube, but whatever floats your boat.



A national heritage history archive blog project is being held on October 17. English Heritage, the National Trust and a bunch of charities are inviting people to upload a blog on that day onto the website www.historymatters.org.uk.

The content of the site, also backed by the BBC and the Daily Telegraph, will be archived and held forever in the British Library. I'll get my library ticket now.

The Beginning

Daily Mail readers and Trago Shoppers are well aware of the constant stream of 'euro-bans' brought in over the last few years to gradually steal the traditional British childhood.Everything from climbing trees and playing conkers to soft plastic toys and sitting on Santa's lap, as well as celebrating Christmas and scrumping for cars are all now against the law. Even drinking vegetable oil by the litre is also out of favour, according to the latest ads. But I never fail to be amazed by the things that don't get banned. For example, what about rubbish American films specifically targeted at developing young minds? Take WarGames. For those unfamiliar, this 1983 movie starred a young Matthew Broderick, before he hit the dizzy heights of Inspector Gadget and Godzilla. The basic premise sees Broderick star as a young hacker who breaks into the most secure and lethal military computer system in the world, in a bid to play noughts and crosses, and accidentally pushing the world to the brink of global thermo-nuclear war. Of course, there are many lessons a young me could have taken from this multi-layered epic morality tail. a) Suit jackets with sleeves rolled up is not a good look. b) A mullet will never help you attract the ladies. or c) Someone really ought to take a look at the security at military installations. Instead what it inspired in me was a desire to become a top grade hacker, learning computer code and breaking my way into Government websites to bring down The Man and The System from within. Well, it never happened, but I did get pretty good at playing noughts and crosses. This failure to hack was in no part due to a lack of support from my parents. Spotting my eager interest in technology they strove to supply me with the goods. My Dad, being a man who knew people who could get anything, first dragged home a BBC Micro. Great for operating remote control turtles, or for drawing triangles. Rubbish at everything else. For those who don't remember the Micro, Johnny Ball used to have a radio show where he would play programs over the air, you could record them, then play them back to your computer, and it would draw a triangle. The programs never worked, but while we were playing them back their high-pitched squeeking attracted several species of dolphin to Leicester. After that we went for the Dragon 32. Rubbish computer, but big enough and heavy enough to take down any burglar, and pin him down until the police arrive. Finally they went for something half decent, by 80s standards, and decided not to spend the whole family allowance each week on Players No6, putting a bit behind instead to save up enough for a ZX81. Despite their best efforts I never achieved a career in hacking, although once after a fall-out with my best mate I did manage to log onto a Leicester City Council computer and ensure his whole family was registered to pay council tax. And today? Well, lets just say The Man and The System can rest easy in their ivory towers... for now, but I do have enough skills to a) get a computer to draw a triangle b) beat most machines at noughts and crosses (although with noughts and crosses as well as with war, the only way to win is not to play) and c) keep a close eye on the Evening Herald's virtual presence here at thisisplymouth A smattering of technical skills combined with years of editorial training and experience has seen me elevated to the lofty heights of Web Editor. Its a full-time job I manage to squeeze in between hunting for organic food to satisfy a growing toddler. By the by has anyone visited Drake Circus yet? No, well it has been quiet, just the odd 120,000 people or so each day. Only mention it because I remortgaged my house to buy a bar of organic chocolate from Hotel Chocolat on the opening day. I haven't brought myself to open it yet, its locked in a safety deposit box in a bank in Zurich (£4!?! for one bar of chocolate?!? Perhaps I should have looked at the price before I got to the till. Anyway. I'll report back on a taste test when I and my wallet recover). Back to the day job. There are many ideas in the pipeline for improving the site in the coming weeks. Regular visitors will already have spotted audio content with many stories, and may have noticed me beavering away at all hours of the day and night to upload stories first thing in the morning and through the weekend. We are also uploading breaking news throughout the day, adding more pictures to our slideshows, creating new sections packed with the latest news and generally trying to make our site everything you all want it to be. None of this would have been possible without a dedicated team of techies in Exeter who have been taking all my requests with good humour (or at least waiting until I've put the phone down to start swearing) Look out for more, perhaps even an online noughts and crosses game. And follow my tribulations in this blog, along with regular updates on my online hunt for organic custard powder and a solution to the problem of used onion skins. Anyway, must go, got to get back to building myself a real-life friend like off of D.A.R.Y.L. and Short Circuit