This cyber gypsy is off gadding about again in the early days of December. I am setting my compass for the desert dunes, leaving a winters London behind and rallying off with the boys and girls from ACE.
Some old buddies from Koh Tao have decided to take part in the Plymouth to Banjul rally. it’s a poor mans Paris to Dakar, with cars costing £100 and the destination being the capital of The Gambia, Banjul. It’s actually a bit further than Dakar, because we are just that little bit more stupid brave.

We hope to be keeping everyone posted along the route by updating our blog at rallyace.com and if we have the facilities we’ll post daily video’s, and perhaps immersive video (QTVR) of our wonderful surroundings.

What will be really great is to see the lads again, it’s been 8 years and it will be marvellous.

We seem to be festooned with cyber gypsies.

In a British Heart Foundation shop in Streatham, Indra Sinha’s ‘frank account of love, life and travels on the electronic frontier’ found us as we walked past the front window.

I have gotten a third of the way through, but it’s like reading ancient history, and kind of sums up the way electronic communication has changed in the last few years.

I’ll talk more about it when I have finished it, but I get the feeling that it is a kind mirror image to the way I perceive the words ‘cyber gypsy’. For me the internet frees me up to see the wild blue planet earth, not so the vaults within.

But we’ll see. The book is wonderfully written, and draws you into its quite delicious labyrinths.

I know my mood hasn’t been good concerning WiFi hotspots in London, considering our glorious capital can’t get it together to provide connectivity, gratis, for it’s citizens to lol about all chaise longue like, in it’s streets writing blogs like this (ie me).

I mean I can understand why. Imagine the glut of bohemians strewn about attempting to work, it would be pitiful. The sight of me strewn outside St Pauls writing an SEO proposal would sicken any banker I’m sure.

So. To escape from this madness I take myself on the road (or rail) to Brighton, and what do I find. WiFi access, free (for a limited period) from T Mobile on the train.

I’m writing this on the train (which is distracting me from working as it happens).

Viva la revolution.

The world IS my office (well, as well as being a dumping ground for humanities inability to govern it’s own greed that is).

We can share. The greedy and me.

Look, I hate to be so egocentric as to think that London is my virtual office – but it is – so if the powers that be would like to make it free for me to wield my Vaio about town like a cyber ninja I’d be a lot happier.

I have heard that it costs 6 quid to use an antenna, that some red nosed skinflint has attached to a coat hanger in Westminster, and uses the proceeds to pay for women to throw buns at him in some Streatham brothel. That seriously raises the cost of a coffee, and curtails my ability to pay for any confectionary to be thrown at me.

So stop it.

On a lighter note everywhere seems to be getting WiFi rapidly. I think Lhasa is rolling out an 8gig per second pan asian connection for switched on Yak herders.

Bitter. Moi ;0)