
That day was pouring down in Manchester. I was going to meet an indie developer at Takk, a café in the Northern Quarter, the Mancunian version of hipster-land. I entered the café, which was reasonably busy. The number of Macs per square metre was high as expected. I ordered an Earl Grey tea, as any British gentleman would have done. A nice conversation with a nice lad in a nice environment was about to happen.
Today, the great Mark Foster...