Last Wednesday night I headed out to London IA, a social networking event for people working in Information Architecture, User Experience Design and other related fields. I don’t work precisely in this area, but I’d like my work to involve more direct interaction with users. Research on people’s experiences is what I’m trained to do, … Continue reading
Author Archives: Caitlin McDonald
The Lord Mayor's Blinged-Out Show
I missed the Lord Mayor’s Show last year because I was in heavy Thesis Editing Mode. My mom and my aunt had even made a special trip over to London to support me in my hour of thesis need, providing some much-needed perspective on the whole thing. But because we were Hard At Work, we … Continue reading
Cake at the Roundhouse
Once upon a time, the Roundhouse was a steam engine turning station. In the engines would go, onto a giant turntable that could revolve them in whatever direction was needed. When newer, bigger engines outgrew the Roundhouse, it became a wine storing facility. And now, it is a pretty darn cool live music venue. I … Continue reading
Remembering
I’ve always had very mixed feelings about Remembrance Sunday, partly because I’m a pacifist and I feel ambivalent about glorifying military deaths over civilians and others affected by war. But more importantly, I’ve never felt that I had anyone personal to remember. But as I watched the ceremonies this morning I realized that there was … Continue reading
Help of a Sort
I failed her. As I was walking to work this morning, as usual rushing because I’d left at the very last possible minute, I passed a woman in the street. I saw her long before she reached me–shortish build, short hair, disheveled, walking in a line that was not precisely straight. But the most noticeable … Continue reading
Inventory
I recently finished reading Moab is my Washpot, Stephen Fry’s first memoir. I discovered that he too was the child of an inventor, though his dad invented very different types of stuff than mine. Also he describes a dad with a very different temperament than my own father. Nevertheless, his description of growing up in … Continue reading
The Lost Humour Columns
I wrote some humour columns for a London publication’s online presence a while back. They disappeared into the ether, but now they are here for your viewing pleasure. Click on the category to find them. Continue reading
Night and Day
I was stuck. I was on the bus, a friend had invited me to what sounded like a glittering intellectual evening at a literary salon in Shoreditch, and I was not moving forward. I’d been on this bus for nearly an hour and probably could have walked as far as we’d gotten. As the time … Continue reading
Swimming Along
Oh yes indeed, Caitie has returned! I missed you, gentle readers, and I know many of you missed me. How lucky do I feel that a few of you even wrote in to express your consternation at my extended absence? Very lucky, that’s how. My disappearance was principally due to a most welcome new development … Continue reading
In a Merry Hour
DON PEDRO Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born. Much Ado About Nothing, II.i Continue reading
Caitiewrites 