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I've known Michael O'Connor Clarke for about ten years.

At the beginning mostly through this blog, then through his being a constant, upstanding member of a loose cadre of people involved in or around the eerily phrophetic Cluetrain Manifesto book and then mailing list.

Kids, ask your grandparents what a mailing list was.

As a result we share this kind of postmodem era (that's modem, not modern) friendship that dictates if either party is ever in either party's hometown, that you're obligated to meet. Which we finally did about three years ago in a pub in London.

Last week I learned that Michael had been suddenly diagnosed with cancer and is, at time of writing, in intensive care. Being the kind of person he is it didn't take long for friends to encircle him and his family to offer care and support.

I hope he might read this while convalescing soon, and be reminded of one of the first times we bumped into each other back in 2002 when I had the foresight to take the then fledgling practice of conference blogging to another insanely recursive level. In fact, I think so enanmoured was he of this particular escapade that Michael even left me a voicemail message to say so.

How quaint we were.

I hope this memory brings a smile to his face and some steel to his determination. Not that I suspect he needs any more of the latter.

UPDATE : I found Michael's voicemail message from 2002.

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