Rand's readers will invariably admit that they first responded to her writing during adolescence. That makes sense. A simplified world of brilliant and unappreciated beings fighting for the recognition they deserve is understandably appealing to teenagers.

These are romance novels with a patina of pseudo-philosophy which is well-suited to those desperate for adulthood. Indeed, Rand is probably best read by those still young enough to miss the implication of her beliefs: neither charity nor compassion nor common cause have any value when compared with the transcendence of the individual mind.

This isn't philosophy, it's petulance. And 50 years on, these novels read like a relics.

A surge in sales of Atlas Shrugged may reflect a depressingly adolescence approach to politics and morality, and not just any adolescent but rather that spoilt brat down the street who has never been subject to any constraint. Of course it could get worse.

So Max in many a conversation had a profound influence (and still does). Cynthia made one key addition to the model and innumerable contributions to the ideas and thinking around it. Along with Sharon Darwent and Warwick Holder she also made significant contributions to the development of workshop methods. More recently Steve Bealing and Michael Cheveldave have further extended that practice, along with our many clients and network members.

Now I may have missed something out, I may have failed to cover some things off properly, someone out there may want to claim a contribution I have not acknowledged above. Any questions or requests please here or by email and I will then write it up more fully.

For those interested here is the list of books that I consider to have been critical in the whole body of my work. If you order via the CE link we earn some money! I should say now that the list is not exhaustive, I still have some shelves to catalogue, and presence on the list is not endorsement of the ideas contained in each volume. Several go back to the 70s and my Catholic Marxist days, there are two volumes of poetry and a fair amount of philosophy. Note that there is only one knowledge management book and that I don't necessarily recommend. It's there because it triggered me to look into complexity via its use (incorrect I now think) of autopoiesis. Working Knowledge from Prusak and Davenport is a classic here, and while talking with Larry had a great influence over the years (and I may publish that list of people one of these days), the book summarised a field which I was familiar with. You may also notice the more or less complete absence of any popular management books!

It's a fairly eclectic mix but my criteria was any book I had read twice, or which I picked up and referenced frequently. I have also loaded them to Library Thing but not really set that up for social sharing yet. If you want to see the list of books which may get added to the list, then my planned reading list is here.

The context was a lecture on Dostoevsky, easily one of my favorite authors (and I am pleased to say my daughter as well in recent years). The best teacher I had in my philosophy course at Lancaster was Prof. Benson whose original degree was Literature, and he taught ethics in part through the medium of Dostoevsky. A point he made, which is repeated by Rowan in this lecture is a good one. The characters in Dostoevsky reflect on their actions, and share the burdens of others. The recommendation that Blair read more of the great Russian has many layers of meaning. In that spirit you can work out the significance of the image for yourself.

Some three years ago on a blustery day in Melbourne I was (literally) blown into an art gallery on the docks near the Telstra Stadium I had made Viv Read walk there from the centre (something for which I probably still remain unforgiven) into the face of a wind that either picked us up (and neither Viv or I are light weights in any sense of the word) or scoured us with gravel. The gallery provided shelter and within moments I had fallen in love with a picture by a member of Australian Academy of Arts. I bought it and paid for shipping, only to discover on my return home that the family were split on its aesthetic value. Those with a sense of beauty (myself and daughter) showed proper respect, while the philistines (wife and son) rejected it. The net result was that the painting has sat in its packaging until this week when it finally found a place in my study (as pictured above).

The study is the only part of the house over which I have absolute control, so that was the only location available. However two walls are floor to ceiling bookshelves (one half science fiction/fantasy and the other academic books from a range of disciplines) and the other two have windows with the remaining space too small to accommodate. For some time I thought about solutions involving a rail that would allow the painting to slide backwards and forwards along the length of the bookshelves but this provided more problematic and I never really worked out how to do it. However over Christmas a book event crisis (rather like the shoe event horizon in a Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy) meant that a radical rethink was required.

Now I have spoken on several occasions about the cyclical pattern of mess and order that is critical to human sense-making. I normally illustrate it with a story about the state of said study. When I am traveling or just generally busy the study tends to accumulate piles of books, papers and journals. Various bags, cables and the other bric-a-bac of travel accumulate on any spare surface. If I am at home for any sustained period of time then the mess gets to me and I engage in a flurry of cleaning, tidying and ordering until the place is pristine again. The new order lasts for a brief period before disintegration sets in again and the whole cycle repeats.

Not this pattern of mess and coherence is a part of life. Structures and taxonomies become out of date and if not changed then knowledge ossifies. Taxidermy and Taxonomy not only sound the same, they often mean the same. At its most ordered and its most disordered the study is probably little use. One is venerated (I don;t like to touch anything), the other has reached a state of randomness. In between it is in a state of messy coherence. I can find things, but often find things I didn't know I needed to see. Serendipity and neatness are contra-indicated.

Now this Christmas the mess reached crisis proportions. There had been no interim efforts and it was eighteen months down. In addition I realised that an expensive oil painting had been in the packing case for three years, undisplayed and unloved. So I got started, but with limited success. There simply was not enough space on any shelf to accommodate any more books, no more room in filing cabinet drawers to accommodate journals and the various souvenirs (people are very generous when you speak) were stacked on top of each other. My collection of Starbucks City Mugs had started to look like a pyramid of cards, and one in immanent danger of collapse.

So over the Christmas holiday period I measured up and started the process of trying to fit a quart into a pint pot. Expansion elsewhere in the house was banned by higher authorities. I had been caught sneaking the history section of the library into the sitting room, and further transgression of the space was not permitted. It took some time but I finally came up with a solution. Its fairly easy now to get affordable high quality oak furniture (a consequence of EU expansion into Eastern Europe) and the New Year Sales produced an opportunity which was worth the risk. I reasoned if the quality was not good, I could always paint them! As it happened there was no problem. Net result I replaced a series of metal filing cabinets with a cupboard and bought in three large bookshelves and two CD units. These allowed me to create two corridors, reducing the size of the study but increasing my book storage capacity. Critically, the back of the CD storage units was the perfect size for the oil painting , and the three cupboards will give me space for various prints, water colours and etchings that have failed the to excite the philistines in the household. The three large cupboards have yet to arrive, but temporary shelving is in place When the real thing arrives they will move out to the garage which is also being subject to a mass reorganization.

There was a cunning plan here. To make the set up work I had to get in some oak timber and make some small shelves (to the right of the picture) and also join the CD cabinets into a rigid unit. That meant bringing out the power saw, router bench and all the other carpentry equipment. For many years this moved from room to room in the house as I equipped each on with shelves, kitchen units etc. All created from reclaimed timber and made by my own two hands. The site of this equipment on the back patio and the subsequent revolve of the philistines allowed me to secure the garage as a new work area. That is now more or less set up and I can resume a old and loved hobby. A complex shoe rack/baggage story unity for the utility room is next in line.

Either way the study is now in a reasonable state. You can see the competed half in the picture, more on the rest and the planned method to handle an increasingly large Starbucks City Mug collection when the rest arrives. For the moment I can now work again, and find things. Aside from fitting the new bookcases, I also have a scanner which will allow me to create a library of all my books via the ISBN numbers - I'll make that available when complete.

For those interested - this is the new floor plan, overall room is just over 4m square

• I will start by updating one of the earliest applications of the Cynefin framework, namely is application to communities and social interaction in general. When this was originally published social computing was a glimpse in eyes of a very small number of pioneers and communities of practice were all the rage (regrettably they still are, but that is getting ahead of myself) and we didn't have the level of awareness we now have for complexity theory.
• That will lead logically into what I call messy coherence in which I will look at the way in which social computing can be used, including methods such as blog storms. This will include some reflections on granularity and modularisation
• I will then look at approaches to innovation involving SenseMaker™ which allow an distributed ethnographic approach to linking and connecting issues and ideas.
• Finally I will look at new organisational forms, in particular the use of crews. This is something I have talked about before, but this will be a more elaborate version, with more detail on implementation.

I have also renamed the posts, abbreviated Knowledge Sharing Across Silos to KSSn which allows me to provide a more meaningful title for each post.

In this second part I want to focus on four core guiding principles that will underlie any successful approach to the problem, and will then move on, in at least one possibly more, posts to summarise some methods and techniques that can be used. The picture by the way is part of the solution, but I'll come to that later. Some of these correspond with my seven principles of knowledge management so should be familiar to regular readers.

Over the last year I have heard some inspiring stories about the way that communities have come together to rebuild after bush fires. I have also seen examples of people from radically different backgrounds and interests coming together to stack sandbags to prevent an isolated house being damaged by flood water. In different organisations I have seen experienced people spend considerable time with school students on work placement with no obvious need or advantage. OK there will always be exceptions, but a direct personal contact or request generally results if some type of gifting behaviour.

As I have said before, in the context of real need few people will refuse to share their knowledge, but most people will refuse to codify what they know in an anticipation of some unarticulated need. There are various reasons for this which range from the political to the practical. Think about the difference between being asked a specific question in context and a more generic request to write down what you know. The more we have context the more we know, what aspects of what we know are relevant and the level of abstraction that the recipient needs. We can also qualify use of the material. I've often said for someone new asking for help OK do this and if this happens phone me up. With other people where I know more about them, or the context is simple I may just reference a paper or reference a concept or principle. This is natural and easy. Covering off all possible options in advance of the question is simply not possible at acceptable cost, if at all. Social context creates social obligation.

This means that solutions in this area must focus on linking and connecting people so that contextual questions can be asked directly or indirectly at the point of need or immediate anticipation of need. The good news is that gifting is pretty much hard wired into humans so we can build on that.

Individual Context

We only know what we know when we need to know it. One of my original three principles of KM before I expanded to seven. Human beings simply don't have a list all command we require contextual (that word again and not for the last time) stimulation. Everyone has had the experience of suddenly remembering something form years back that now turns out to be highly relevant. We sleep on things as a means of recall. Conversation stimulates idea creation. Its one of the reasons I always record presentations, the act of explaining something to an audience, especially if questioned, is often a process of gaining new insight or understanding.

There is some overlap here with the general points made under social obligation above, all things are connected! However its important to realise that independently of social obligations, we need direct stimulation. I have a couple of overdue papers on the go at the moment (a more or less perpetual state of affairs. I know have half a dozen books open on the work space around me, some old papers of mine and a few artifacts from projects. All of those are stimulating me not just to recall what I know, but to create new knowledge.

Adaption & exaptation

Probably one of the most effective mechanisms for knowledge transfer which has emerged in human history was (and is) the apprentice scheme. Highly ritualised in medieval times with the apprentice walking the boards once they had reached a certain level of competence to become Journeymen. Then, for some the execution of the master work to become one of the company masters. Dress changed at each stage as did obligation. The educational model was also community based. Journeymen also educated apprentices and were often better able to do so than the masters. While in the early stages of knowledge transfer there was a degree of rote learning, increasingly the apprentice learnt by practice and by tolerated failure. They did not copy the master, they adapted with variance and as such the body of knowledge progressed, it was not transferred as a static entity - something all too common in most KM programmes - but as a living, breathing and changing practice.

Knowledge is a flow, an evolving capability rather than a static thing. By recognising this dynamic quality we also enable exaptation which I have discussed before. Gould distinguishes between adaptation which is a gradual process drive by natural selection and exaptation, a sudden functional change of a biological trait or technology in the absence of selective pressure. For those interested its the difference between climbing a peak of a fitness landscape and the collapse of the distance between peaks. Human language is generally held to have resulted from exaptation not adaptation. Arthur in his brilliant book has pointed to the way this happens in technology through modularisation. Kauffman sees exaptation as a hugely creative force.

By its very nature exaptation does not arise from structured and ordered process, it requires that landscape to collapse, for serendipitous events, for novelty to emerge in unexpected ways. All of this means that the way in which things link and connect between silos needs to reflect the messy accidental nature of evolution. Managing for exaptation requires us to create a messy (but not chaotic) environment, to get the modularization (scale) right for networked interactions. The good news is that its easy to do, the bad news is that it means unlearning a lot of process type approaches and abandoning the dangerous cult of sick stigma with its belted high priests.

Natural Limits

I make no apology for a simple reference here. There are natural limits on group size and social interaction that we need to respect in building any initiative. I posted on this some time ago and have nothing major to add to what I said then.

to be continued ....

In fact if you take most population distributions (size of cities in a country, animals, financial trades etc.) and produce a double log scale of frequency against distribution you get the picture above. So there are a few large elephants and a lot of fleas, or a few large cities, but lots of hamlets and so on. There are fractal variants of this normally illustrated by Broccoli florets and the like, but the essential point remains the same.

Now the net result of this is a probability ranking as shown in the graph to the left. The key thing to realise is that so called low probability events on a Gaussian distribution turn out to have a much higher probability. Outlier events, disregarded by most research processes turn out to have far more significance than we thought. Events disregarded as highly improbable on a gaussian distribution turn out to be more probable than we thought. There are some pretty major implications from this, one of which is to realise that failure is far more likely that we think. Therefore a shift from a strategy based on preventing all probable failures may be wrong, instead in several cases we need to assume failure and plan for rapid recovery. In other words a shift from a strategy based on robustness to one based on resiliance. To give a practical example, if you have built a house on a water meadow then it is going to flood (its why its called a water meadow, its not estate agent speak). So instead of a conventional build you have stone wall, stone flagstones and the the electricity is in conduits that come down from the ceiling. Funnily enough that is how our ancestors used to build them (sans electricity).

Now there are lots of interesting implications here, and one of the fascinating links is that between SenseMaker's ability to capture outlier events and power laws, both of which are being seen as two of the key new research tools in a world made aware of complex adaptive systems. I did a session on that with a group of academics at the Academy in Chicago last year, and we are planning a larger follow up in Montreal this year.

Bill is one of the academics involved and he understands power laws a lot better than I do. In this paper he moves things on a bit, arguing that the City of London has become disproportionately large. In effect he is arguing that a Power Law provides a natural constraint that could inform policy makers. its an interesting argument so if anyone has access to a policy maker in the City or Lord Turner and can get this paper to them please do. Otherwise all and any comments will be welcome.

My linking of fleas to the City of London by the way is gratuitous and deliberate in the light of recently announced obscene levels of bonus payments. These days the rats don't just leave the sinking ship, they also want us to pay for the replacement and then charge us for salvage.

I should say that until recently I had resisted watching the film. I picked up the book back in 1975 from the University Bookshop out of curiosity. I had just read Hesse's The Glass bead Game on the recommendation of my Jesuit mentor in the Catholic Chaplaincy. That had led me to Steppenwolf which radically transformed my perception of myself. This was was started on a love affair with German Literature and music in and around the Weimar Republic. If you have never heard Braunfels Die Vögel or the orchestral works of Hindemith then a whole cannon of musical experience is available to you. Not to have read Mann's Magic Mountain or Buddenbrooks is a sin against education. Cabaret remains the best musical, and possibly the best film of all time with its fractal perspective on the rise of the Nazis.

I'll leave you with a quote from Dog Days, the third volume of the Danzig Trilogy: While God was still at school, in the heavenly playground he came up with the idea of creating the world, together with his schoolmate, the talented little Devil.

The sun came out today and the village was pristine with snow so after a mornings work I donned outdoor gear and set off to photograph the garden and the village, results on the Flickr stream in the panel to the left on this blog. With the sun low in the sky I set off up the hill at the southern end of the village and the path which leads up into the West Woods. I was targeting some shots of trees stripped bear, shadowed onto the snow. I timed it right and you can see one of the results there.

Once the imagination starts to wander in such a direction then it is not easily distracted. The West Woods are one of the last remnants of the ancient woods of Britain. They were here when the stones were raised at Avebury, the witnessed the Romans who settled this area with rich villas, the invading Saxons and the Normans who follow. They were the hunting preserves of the Plantagenets, the plague village of Shaws abuts the Wan's Dyke on their southern boundary. That pedigree in history imparts mystery and I quickened my pace, gaining that sense of a presence that as the last rays of sunlight filter out of the trees as one in hald a mind as to wether to look behind one or not. Finally I came to one of the mid forest houses (Gillian Anderson of X-Files fame has a house here), and joined the Game Keepers track that leads out of the forest and back to the village.

Wind in the WIllows was still on my mind. Chapter 3, The Wild Wood is the first dark element to enter the book, it also contains one of the all time great pieces of comic writing known to all affectionados as the door scraper incident. This had to be read in context so I will not quote it here. However form the first time this was read to me as a bed time story, before the age of five it has never failed to bring tears of laughter to my eyes. It is one of the great children's books of all time, and as all such do appeals to adults as well. It makes no compromise to children in language, none of the nonsensical dumbing down and trivialisation of more popular authors such as Enid Blyton or Ronald Dahl whose sales seem in inverse proportion to their quality. The language is almost as rich as the time of Marlow and Shakespeare, but is written in such a way as to allow the context to reveal meaning without interrupting the flow of a powerful narrative. This example. from the same chapter illustrates its quality.

Such a rich chapter it had been, when one came to look back on it all! With illustrations so numerous and so very highly coloured! The pageant of the river bank had marched steadily along, unfolding itself in scene-pictures that succeeded each other in stately procession. Purple loosestrife arrived early, shaking luxuriant tangled locks along the edge of the mirror whence its own face laughed back at it. Willow-herb, tender and wistful, like a pink sunset cloud, was not slow to follow. Comfrey, the purple hand-in-hand with the white, crept forth to take its place in the line; and at last one morning the diffident and delaying dog-rose stepped delicately on the stage, and one knew, as if string-music had announced it in stately chords that strayed into a gavotte, that June at last was here. One member of the company was still awaited; the shepherd-boy for the nymphs to woo, the knight for whom the ladies waited at the window, the prince that was to kiss the sleeping summer back to life and love. But when meadow-sweet, debonair and odorous in amber jerkin, moved graciously to his place in the group, then the play was ready to begin.

If you have not read it do, if you have children to read it to then you are twice blessed. Under no circumstances accept an abridged version. Chapter Seven, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn is too often omitted by those too ignorant to understand its significance. However avoid the woods at dusk in winter.

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

John Masefield

I was not in the best of moods on New Years Eve. Family circumstances combined to make it a stay at home evening which is not the best way to end a year. In compensation I was half thinking about a trip Swansea on New Years Day for the evening Ospreys-Blues game and that brought back memories of the old St Helen's ground where I saw many a rugby match and several cricket matches including Glamorgan v the West Indies many decades ago, I got Wes Hall's autograph that day. One of the bonus features of a visit to St Helens was that you could park on the sea front and go for a walk on the beach. The new Liberty Stadium is in the middle of a trading estate and has little to offer in respect of aesthetics.

I then realised at least one reason for my general feeling of malaise was the sheer length of time since I had been at the sea. When my parents were alive I could walk from their house along the sea cliffs to Moelfre Harbour to the north or Red Wharf Bay to the south. Throughout my childhood we went sailing every Wednesday evening and Sunday afternoon in Llandudno Bay. At University the delights of Morcambe Bay were a short bus ride away and Glasson Dock was a wonderful afternoon walk from the University following the tow path of the Lancaster Canal.

Reflections

My initial thoughts were to call in at Southerndown on the way to Swansea. In my youth, although I grew up in North Wales we were brought to the family house in Cardiff most holidays as a means of preserving ethnic identity. Half the time we were left to amuse ourselves, in Victoria Park or the Museum, but for the rest of the time trips were planned. Barry Island (Gavin and Stacy brings back memories only possible to locals) and Cold Knap were a short train or bus ride. If we were lucky then a day trip would be planned to Southerdown. This was a major undertaking and my Uncle Ron's three wheeled Reliant Robin (see picture) would be stacked with buckets and spades (for cousin Michael's major engineering works in the sand), food and drink, rugby balls, my fossil hunting equipment (hammer, cold chisels, sample bags) topped up with four children and three adults. Before you say anything (i) it is possible and (ii) its not safe but these were gentler times. The twenty mile trip down the A48 was precarious, and we would be made to walk up and down the steep hill to the beach for the sake of the car.

However the cure for a general malaise is not a sentimental journey; better to explore new horizons. I realised that in all the time I had been to Cardiff I had never been to the Gŵyr (Gower), anything west of Bridgend was considered dangerous territory during my youth. In adult life I had passed it many times driving down to the Pembrokshire Coast, or seen it from Llanelli at a distance, but I had never visited it. A quick search on the internet and I settled on a day around the cliffs at Rhossili followed by the rugby match. Accordingly I restricted my alcohol intake to a half bottle of Pinot Noir and left the house and family early the following morning heading west.

Winter Sun

  There is a special quality to the sun in winter. As I left Swansea, one of the least attractive cities in Wales in terms of architecture, I headed out along the coast past the Mumbles. The sun just after midwinter never rises high in the sky and the resultant light, if short lived is a treasure for the photographer. The picture to the left was taken later in the day from the Fall Bay, but it gives a sense of the unfolding vista on my left as I drove west. The journey itself was through small country lanes with a mixture of stone built farm houses and holiday caravan tat glimpsed through woods to the side of the road. There was still ice on some corners, protected from the sun by tall hedges so caution was needed. Arriving at Rhossili I parked and went for a brief walk to the cliff top. A few minutes out of the car demonstrated that it was going to be cold so I donned a Paramo mountain pull on and balaclava as well as the fleece (Paramo are the best maker of outdoor clothing by the way) donned walking boots with gaiters and set off.

The view to the north over Rhossilli Bay was spectacular and the picture that opens this entry is of a solitary fisherman digging for lug worms, taken from 50m above sea level. I'm fairly proud of this picture as it captures the sense of scale between the sea and the individual, with the wading gulls as a counter point. From there the coast guard path takes you to the cliffs overlooking Worm Head, pictured to the right. This peninsular is only accessible two and half hours each side of Low Tide and people have been both killed and stranded over the years when they get the timing wrong. Dylan Thomas, one of the greatest poets of a nation of poets once had to stay on the Worm "from dusk to midnight sitting on that top grass, frightened to go further in because of the rats and because of things I am ashamed to be frightened of. Then the tips of the reef began to poke out of the water and, perilously, I climbed along them to the shore.” While I might take that risk in August, January with snow forecast was a different matter, so rather than take the risk I resolved the follow the coastal path round to Mewslade Bay.

The views were incredible, the low lying sun creating shadows and providing a clarity that you never see in the summer. Tears Point provides a wonderful retrospective of Worms Head with the cliffs, blow holes and smugglers coves (this was a coast frequented by wreckers) of the coastal path to Port Enyon opening up to the south-east. That walk with the extension to Oxwich will await a longer day with either public transport or a second car permitting a linear walk. For the moment I resolved to drop down to the beach of Fall Bay and follow the beach to Mewslade. The tide was now coming in, but the route looked safe, it might involve the odd rock scramble but exit routes were available and the sea calm.

A chattering of Choughs

Before leaving the cliff I followed the noise of a pair of choughs. These are one of the most interesting of the Corvidae their red beaks and legs and raucous noise being the most obvious feature, but their flight on a cliff face is a wonderful sight. I remember one day many years ago sitting on the top of Braich-y-Pwll on the Llŷn Peninsula watching a chattering of choughs (one of the most appropriate collective nouns there is) performing an amazing set of aerodynamics in the updrafts of a winter storm. Three quarters of the UK's population of these birds live in Wales, and they are the heraldic bird of the county of Flintshire where I grew up. Celtic legend says that King Arthur transformed into a chough at his death and they feature in many a legend. I've never got as close to one as I did today. A pair were on the edge of cliff just under the path. Fortunately I have a head for heights so I got within ten yards and then waited patiently to get a picture of one with beak open. A rare privilege to get this close.

The descent to Fall Bay was an easy walk, although it required care to get across the rocks to the beach itself. At times an old instinct saw me reach to my left where a fossil hammer used to sit in a leather sling. For me a visit to a beach in South Wales was an opportunity to discover ammonites, not build sand castles. The walk along the sea shore was breathtaking, the cliffs gave more views of choughs and the sun on sea created a magical setting. The tide was coming in fast now though, but I made the first crossing between Fall Bay and Mewslade without getting my feet wet. It involved some mild scrambling which reminded me that I no longer have the knees of my youth and I need more exercise, but nothing major. However the next point produced more difficulty.

Between the devil and the deep blue sea

The picture to the right illustrates the problem. By now the tide was coming in at pace and forming deep pools around the rocks. I set off confidently climbing over the bleached (I can think of no better description) of the rock you can see, and then faced a problem. There was a route, but it involved a series of confident step between small rounded boulders that were still damp with frost and surrounded by deep pools. A couple ahead of me had got across but they sensibly had two climbing poles each to provide a means of support, and they had used both. A younger version of myself would probably have attempted it. However the thought of the knee jarring experience that would likely end up with a slip and a soaking, not to mention the prospect of a smashed head meant I ruled out that approach. This was reinforced by the danger to the camera and the blackberry, neither would be likely to survive a soaking and I had no companion to hold and pass.

Discretion having proved the better part of valor I looked at the alternatives. One involved climbing the cliff to a narrow ledge that appeared to provide a route but I could not see beyond the next buttress. Returning the way I had come was not attractive, not least because my previous route was now under water. Looking to the sea there appeared to a sand spit, just below water level that ran around the rocks so I took that route. It was the right choice, and my left boot with gaiter kept my feet dry, but the right fell into deeper water and filled up. Better than a full body immersion however and good climbing boots even when immersed provide some protection and within a few minutes I could walk with ease. OK there was a sense of dampness, but not of squelching. Mewslade Bay was interesting, and I followed the old smugglers path back up through the fields to Rhossili with Peregrine Falcons sweeping the valley around me.

Of snow and dry socks

A map for those who want it, the walk is shown in yellow, undertaken counter-clockwise

So this is me, as me, nothing to do with Cognitive Edge policy as I am sure my colleagues may disagree with me. Hopefully you will find it useful or at least interesting. The heading by the way is an amendment of the famous 1940's newspaper heading in the UK which read: Fog in Channel: Continent cut off. One of the key necessities in the next decade is that the English (the Welsh and Scots from opinion polls have made the choice) commit to Europe, or maybe as an alternative become the 51st State. If you want a real insight into how that might happen, and a good laugh in the process read Peter Preston's wonderful satire 51st State . It may be dystopian, or utopian depending on your point of view but it will lighten the mood.

So to the process:

• Sauté the almonds in olive oil and salted butter until golden stirring continuously, then remove from the pan with a slotted spoon onto kitchen towel to drain.
• Add a good spoonful of lemon juice to the remaining fat and and sauté the sliced mushrooms until soft, in parallel with this cook the pasta so the two are complete together. Drain the pasta and mix it in a large oven dish with the mushrooms and almonds, mixing well and fast to prevent the pasta sticking together. If necessary spend time separating the pasta strands now, you don't want your guests doing it after you serve it.
• Now in a heavy pan (if you don't have a heavy pan you do not understand sauces) melt three good tablespoonfuls of butter and mix in floor slowing to form a roux. I use a flour shaker for this and a wooded spatula. You want the roux thick enough to start to separate, but only just and then you mix in ¾ of a pint of turkey stock - I use a whisk to prevent any lumps forming. Heat up a half pint of double cream in the microwave and blend that in along with the wine then add a quarter pound of greeting cheese, folding the whole picture over a low heat until it is a smooth sauce.
• Half the sauce gets added to the pasta, and the shredded turkey is added to the remaining source now removed form the heat. Both these should be folded again and again until everything is covered with the sauce.
• Now create a well down the centre of the pasta and pour the turkey mixture into that space, smooth it over, cover with the flaked parmesan and put it into the top oven of the Aga on the second shelf for half an hour. For those without an Aga then its 190°C.

It's an indulgent meal so you might as well go the whole hog (ironic that phrase) and finish it off with organic vanilla ice cream and slices of Red WIlliam Pears, if you want to be really indulgent pour some of the remaining double cream over that, the way it flakes in contact with the cold ice cream is wonderful. Then go to bed, wake up the next morning and take out that gym membership.