Sun employee & fanatical motorcyclist Mike Belch's Weblog Biker Mike's Weblog

Today's pictures of D-Day commemorations in France remind me of our own family trip on June 6th, 2002. My American cousin, his wife and two children joined my wife and our two children for a three day visit to Normandy. We stayed in Bayeux and on the anniversary of D-Day itself we visited a number of memorial sites and cemeteries. It was very moving and I hope a real education for the four children who where then aged between 6 and 13.

After a long day (although not as long as the day experienced by those on June 6th, 1944)  we retired to a quayside restaurant in Port-en-Bessin. We sat, four adults on one table, four kids on the other, and looked through a menu chock-full of typically French seaside fare. Some time later a veteran, wearing a beret and proudly sporting medals on his blazer, came in with a lady who looked to be the same age and was shown to the table next to our children. As the kids were noisily chatting to each other, I went over to the couple, who weren't talking to each other, to apologise. It was then that I learned of their incredible story.

The man had been a British soldier in World War II. He was a sergeant and he and his men had sought shelter at a farm during the fighting on D-Day. She was the farmer's daughter and had willingly given the soldiers food and drink, making them feel very welcome on that traumatic day. Rested, they left and he never saw her again. In his later life he had told some of his British Legion colleagues about the farmer's daughter and unbeknown to him they did some research and found her. So, for the 2002 D-Day memorial, they arranged a surprise reunion, which included at the end of the day a meal for the two of them in the restaurant that we were eating in. The only flaw in this wonderful plan was that he didn't speak a word of French and she didn't speak English, so they just sat there at the table just looking at each other and smiling. So began a wonderful evening where I used my basic French language skills to act as an interpreter. All of us gathered around the table, eager to hear their stories and do our little part in helping them get to know each other after all that time. I don't remember a thing about what we ate in that restaurant, but I won't ever forget the events of that evening.

Version 2.2.2 of VirtualBox, running on Mac, is the best release I have seen to date. It is much more stable than any of the last three releases, of which I had begun to despair following a persistent problem with suspend or restore of virtual machine state. The new version is not only stable but also lightning-fast.

If anyone is remotely interested, I have been using it for both professional and personal reasons. At work I have used it to give me a clean client-machine/browser environment for testing Sun's IBIS implementation of Oracle 11i. Personally I have been using VirtualBox to host a MySQL and Apache environment to do some prototyping of a new Joomla-based website for the charity that I support in my spare time. The website I developed for Freewheelers EVS has now gone live and is receiving good reviews from my colleagues in the charity. I'm also relieved to see that so far the redevelopment hasn't messed anything up in our Google rankings - an important part of maintaining our profile with new volunteers and sponsors. 

The power went off at home today for four hours. It was planned and it was all my fault - I live in a village where all the power and phone lines are overhead on tall wooden poles and last month I reported that one of the poles was leaning at a dangerous angle. So today, after two weeks advance warning, the power went off along our whole street so that the pole could be replaced. It wasn't a problem, I had planned ahead, my phone and laptop were fully charged, we had my camping stove to boil water for tea, I was all ready to survive that modern horror - no electricity. Pretty much on schedule the power went out and what hit me almost immediately was the silence. Sat in my office - why I don't know because the Internet was off and I had no phone - I could hear birds twittering, three snoring dogs and the old wind-up clock ticking two rooms away. But that was it. Nothing else. Silence. It was wonderful. Then the power came back again, my laptop started charging and the fan kicked in, the printer came on, the two external disks on my desk spun up, the TV went on in the lounge, the fish tank filter started pumping and the air stone started bubbling. It was deafening. I couldn't believe how I could live normally with so much background noise. Anyway a few hours later and I don't hear the noise any more. Maybe I'll turn the power off for a few hours next week when the family are all out and get that silence back.

b.t.w. I got a nice bonus from the electricity company - they gave me the telegraph pole, which is now sawn, chopped and giving off a wonderful heat in the lounge as it burns in the fireplace. Oh, and I discovered that I can be disconnected from the Internet for four hours without the world coming to an end.

The news that Oracle is buying Sun raised an incident from the dark recesses of my memory. In March 2000, I did some private flying from San Carlos airfield in California. It is located within direct sight of Oracle's headquarters and has the very apt ICAO designation KSQL. Anyway, for one of the flights I was returning to the airfield after a couple of hours touring the bay in my Piper PA28-181 Archer and was told that I was number one in the circuit to land - directly in front of Larry Ellison who was waiting also joining the circuit to land behind me. Anyway, being a Brit who was unfamiliar with US flight procedures I messed up my approach and caused some delay to the others in the circuit. It makes me wonder if Larry if the forgiving sort and will overlook a minor incident that took place nine years ago! 

One year ago today I was admitted to hospital. Lying on the couch in my family doctor's surgery, with the hiss of the oyxgen mask that had been placed on my face, and listening to her make an emergency call for an ambulance was a scary experience. So began a two month break from work with four weeks in hospital and some really painful surgical procedures. One year later I'm fit and healthy and all that is a distant memory.

What is interesting though is the number of hits my original blog post still gets. Checking my Sitemeter statistics, it seems like half the hits on my blog are people searching Google for information on gall bladders, gallstones, bile, peritonitis and abdominal pain; and frankly I'm surprised that my blog entry scores in the top ten of so many of those searches. I do hope that people take it for what it is, a personal account of a medical "adventure" and don't look on it as some definitive work on gastrointestinal surgery. My medical expertise is limited to watching episodes of "House" and playing the odd game of doctors and nurses! If anyone does read my original post then I hope that whatever symptoms they are suffering are soon resolved and maybe this new post will reassure them that a year later their current problems will be all but forgotten.

It's spring, the sap is rising and like all true men my thoughts are turning to motorcycles. What else? 

I have just read about two different motorcycling expeditions which have got me thinking and wishing that I could just take off on my bike without a backward glance. Unfortunately, while this might be a great dream, for a long time to come it will remain just that because of our huge mortgage, children still at school, three dogs and all the other things that pin us down (in the nicest possible way). So it is with a slight twinge of jealousy and a huge amount of admiration that I'll tell you about two different adventures. 

Tiffany Coates is a good friend of mine from Cornwall. Tiff has very itchy feet and finds it difficult to stay put in one place for more than a couple of years. She has already ridden her bike across Europe and Asia to Australia and back through Africa, as well as going the entire length of both American continents, plus the odd side trip to Timbuktoo - simply because it sounded like an interesting place. And she did all this long before Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman made motorcycle adventure travel fashionable. Tiff doesn't really plan, she just gets on her bike and rides off.  In two weeks time I'll be going to Tiffany's farewell party as she sets off on her next adventure - riding to Mongolia. Read about Tiffany and marvel at her courage on her website and blog - tiffanystravels.co.uk

The second motorcycle adventure to grab my attention is a ride from England to India later this year. Richard Evans and Simon Chegwyn will do the ride to raise money for Asha and Weston Hospicecare. My dad died in November 2006 from lymphoma and leukaeima after receiving superb palliative care at Weston Hospice, so the charity is very close to my heart. Read about their adventure at delhibikechallenge2009.com. You can sponsor Richard and Simon with an easy credit card donation at JustGiving. If you are UK taxpayer then that nasty Mr Brown from Downing Street will reluctantly add another 20% tax relief on your donation to the Hospice.

My friend Marion, a fellow biker who raises huge amounts of money for breast cancer charities in the UK, is a midwife. She is pictured on the right with her two sons. A couple of years ago Marion took the brave step of leaving a safe job in the UK's National Health Service to set up on her own as an independent practitioner. Her business, Rutland Midwives (named after England's smallest county where she lives) provides a unique service offering prospective mothers (and their partners) real choice in their antenatal care - a far cry from the baby factories that some NHS hospitals have become. What is really cool though is Marion has started blogging about her work, sharing some really interesting stories and insights into the baby birthing business, and her work as a midwife and mother's advocate. If you are used to the usual dross and drivel that some people publish in their blogs, or if you think blogs are the exclusive preserve of geeks and techies, then take a look at Marion's blog -  Marion the Midwife. And if you or your partner are having a baby and live anywhere near her in Rutland or Leicestershire then get in touch!

I decided that my blog was looking a bit tired, so I just updated it to use Sun's Pacifica theme. I am still struggling to find my way around - for example I have lost all my fancy buttons and twiddly bits (that's a British technical term) on the right side for last.fm, technorati and sitemeter. Hopefully I can have it looking just how I want it within a short time. It might even give me a jolt into doing some more blogging!

Three weeks ago I gave platelets for the first time in 8 months due to major surgery and then some business travel. During the last few minutes of the session the machine flagged up a high blood return pressure alarm - an indication that the machine is struggling to return the blood back to your vein after the platelets are removed. Today's donation session was abandoned after just a few minutes because the machine gave alarms for both a low pressure draw (trouble getting blood out) and high pressure return. As I was not able to  receive the blood it took I am now left on the bench for the next two months to allow my red blood cells to recover. I also suspect that the daily intravenous antibiotics, pain killers and blood tests (sometimes up to three times a day for each) during my month-long stay in hospital last year mean that my veins might now be unsuitable for platelet donation. I'll try the other arm when I go back in March but I'm not hopeful.

During the holidays I made my 50th blood donation. It took me a long time to get there - I started donating in college when I was 18, but frequent business travel to the USA and a recent month-long stay in hospital meant that I have often been barred from donation. However, it has been worth the wait. My dad died two years ago of leukaemia and lymphoma. During his two years of treatment he received around 50 transfusions of red blood cells and platelets, so I now feel like I have paid our family's debt and everything from now on puts us in credit!

British TV is saturated right now with Microsoft's "I'm a PC" advert and it is driving me mad. And don't get me wrong, I'm no great detractor of Microsoft despite working for Sun. I have made a good living over the years in the area of Microsoft and Unix interoperability.

The advert does sometimes bring a wry smile to my face when I see the "Life Without Walls" tagline and think of Scott McNealy's infamous words from the mid-nineties: "In a world without walls who needs windows? In a world without fences who needs gates?"

My last two blog entries are about the death of friends, so it is odd that this one is also about death. Only this time it's about the death of a motorcycle. Yesterday I said goodbye to my trusted friend "VSP", a Honda ST1300 Pan-European which I have used for the past two years or so with the Freewheelers blood bikes charity. VSP was getting a bit old at six years and long in the tooth with nearly 90,000 miles on the clock so its days were numbered. Yesterday I rode its replacement – a shiny new Yamaha FJR1300.

As soon as I rode the bike I hated it. The first thing I did was stall it. Then I nearly dropped it. It was horrible and I was determined to find fault. It didn't feel the same, it didn't sound the same, it had a really jerky clutch, it felt strange going around corners, the lights were different, the throttle was too sensitive. I came back home last night after riding nearly 100 miles and I hated it. I wanted VSP back. This morning I rode the FJR1300 again. This time I approached it with a more open mind. I relaxed my posture when riding and suddenly the bike became smooth and fluid through the bends. Relaxing made the clutch and throttle much easier too. I learned to enjoy the noise, a joyful burble at low revs that rises to a banshee wail above 6000 RPM. Now, after 300 miles I'm really enjoying this new bike. The Pan-European and FJR1300 are both 1300cc, 4-cylinder sports-tourer motorcycles, but they are chalk and cheese. The FJR is more sports and the Pan is more tourer. The Pan is big and heavy and solid and predictable. The FJR is light and flighty and I guess I can never quite drop my concentration, as I suspect it will bite back without much provocation. I shan't forget the Pan, and in a way I'm glad that it's replacement isn't trying to be the same bike. Vive la difference!

I just heard, via a former colleague's Facebook status update, that an old Sun friend Gene Saunders died suddenly last week. I always thought of Gene as Mr OneStop due to his early work on the Sun internal information portal of the same name. Although Gene left Sun a while ago he and I stayed in frequent contact. His cheerful comments will be greatly missed.

EDIT: Geoff Arnold just published a fitting tribute to Gene.

I learned a couple of days ago that my neighbour Ted Mercer was buried last week. I was deeply shocked as I didn't know that Ted had died. I knew he was ill because he was in hospital, on the same ward as me, when I had my gall bladder problems earlier this year. 

Ted was more than just an old man who lived a few doors away though, he was Lancaster Bomber pilot in 44 Squadron during World War Two. He was also a decorated hero - as Flying Office E. Mercer he was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross in February 1944. After the war he flew commercially as an airline captain, including a spell flying Boeing 720 jets in remote parts of Africa - a really "hot ship" as Ted called them. As a former pilot I was always happy to talk about flying with Ted and he had some great stories. He had four daughters, lived a full life into his eighties and seemed remarkably happy and upbeat right up until I last saw him shortly before his death - despite his obvious medical problems. I always found it odd and slightly uncomfortable to see Ted going around the village on his little electric wheelchair/scooter, a real comedown from the big aircraft he used to fly, but Ted was happy to be out and about on it and would stop to talk with everyone. Cheddar village is now a little emptier without Ted Mercer. I shall miss him.

When I checked in with British Airways in Denver for my flight home on Friday I was surprised when the lady at check-in told me they had some lost property for me. I left three boxes of Harrods tea bags in the overhead locker on my outbound flight and hadn't given them a second thought, assuming they would be lost forever. So thanks to BA I enjoyed a cup of Harrod's Blend No. 14 English Breakfast this morning.