My next trip

My next trip is, fingers crossed, to Korea and Japan. It was supposed to happen this week but one thing and another delayed it; at the time of writing it's going to happen next week. I'm going to Korea to discuss, face to face, some problems we have with a PLC (Programmable Logic Controller) that's at the heart of our hardware product. And I'm going to Japan to play the futile game of cornering a customer who wants some modifications to our software. The customer wants some remotable capabilities but can't give us a written spec. They DO want a delivery date. I, of course, can't and won't give them even the vaguest delivery date without a much more solid understanding of what it is they want. Hence the meeting in Japan.

I know, ahead of time, that whatever I do I'm in a lose/lose situation. We can speculate and specify to our hearts content but if the customer doesn't know what they want I have no chance of delivering anything that will fit their expectations. So I'm viewing this trip to Japan not so much as a Q&A as an educational priority. I have maybe 2 days, if I'm lucky, to teach my customer the process of software specification.

But at least I'll have the experience of visiting Japan .

Which reminds me of Christmas 1960. My father had just died (based on my memories of him no loss to humanity ), My grandmother gave me a toy police car and I was playing with it. Somehow or other my grandmother realised that the toy she'd given me was Made in Japan. I remember so vividly how she said 'if I'd known it was made in japan I'd never have bought it'. I had no idea, at age 6, why she'd said that. I found out somewhat later that one of her close friends had spent time in Changi Prison, Singapore, as a Japanese prisoner of war. It still feels somewhat strange, when I travel through Singapore, to be in Changi International Airport. Is it on the same site? I don't know.

I caught up with my grandmothers friend in 1989. His name was Keith and when I was a small child he always scared the bejeezus out of me; he seemed so stern. At that age I had no understanding of what he'd been through; he just scared me. But in 1989 I was maybe a foot taller and 50 years younger and perhaps had a greater understanding of what he'd been through; I walked away from a very very cordial remembrance session wondering how on earth I could have been so scared. I very much doubt Keith is still alive; rest in peace Keith, my grandmothers friend, and a friend to me long after my grandmothers death.