A Contemplative Moment

'Z-Cars' was a serial police drama shown on television in the UK in the 60s and 70s, the predecessor of 'The Bill'. Slightly gritty and more recognisably 'real' than the competitor, 'Dixon of Dock Green', with its comfortable values and the reassuring closing piece to camera. The catchy Z-Cars theme tune can still be brought immediately to mind and recalling it brings back lost time as effectively as Proust's madeleines. The continuing stories in Z-Cars were balanced by the episodic tales of crime and, well, punishment. On one evening however Z-Cars had 'A Quiet Night', nothing happened, as, of course, is often the case in real police work. The characters gossiped, drunk tea and patrolled as the night unwound. Dawn came and the shift finished, the characters parted. A brave and mould breaking piece of television, as real, in it's way as The Wire.

So anyway, a long prologue, to my idea that I might write my own 'Quiet Day': answering email, drinking coffee, gossiping with colleagues, seeing students, reviewing stuff, perhaps attending a seminar. Anyway, I am not sure I have had a day like that for months. So I thought I would be less ambitious, from 'A Quiet Day' to 'A Contemplative Moment'. An attempt to capture the still moments we all snatch from busy days and busy lives, the moments we think, caught between events, out of time.

In my case I am caught between transport connections, now waiting for a train but just as often in an airport lounge. I am sitting in the barrel vaulted central hall of Milan Central Station, with its peculiar but impressive quasi-classical fascist architecture, waiting for the train to Verona Porta Nuova, and on from there. I am eating an untimely, it is early evening, gelato, that predictably I have managed to get on my jacket. My belongings are around my feet and for some reason I am not worrying about train times or destinations, though perhaps I would be well advised to do so. I am thinking about technical stuff in a rather abstracted way, specifically about risk in software projects and what risk management strategies mean in this context, anyway the details do not really matter. The train indicator ticks over and I heft my bag over my shoulder and look for the platform, in the moment again.

Now I am waiting for a taxi at the conference centre at the end of Lake Garda. It is early spring and heart stoppingly beautiful in the way of the Italian lakes. The contrast between the mountains and the water distantly dotted with white sails is able to incite the aesthetic sensibility in even the most serious Professor. I have the sun on my face and some time to myself, the uncertain connections have been accounted for and the inevitable delays have been factored in. I take deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, a calming ritual, decompressing after my talk. I am worrying about software ecosystems but in no very systematic manner. I know such ecosystems are important but cannot decide what the scientifically significant questions to ask might be. I think that's my taxi.