Memorable moments: Automated aggression

During my time at Volvo in Duxford, I made frequent business trips to the corporate heartland of Gothenburg. I usually stayed at the Radisson, a hotel that catered to the brisk, efficient schedules of visiting executives. Because our meetings often started at the crack of dawn, I relied heavily on the hotel’s wake-up call service.

It was a standard, automated system: you’d speak your requested time into the phone, and the next morning, a computerized voice would chime, "This is your wake-up call." It was cold, functional, and perfectly Swedish.

One morning, after a particularly early set-up and a night of restless, fragmented sleep, the phone rang at 5:00 AM. I was in a foul mood—irritable, exhausted, and ready to lash out at the inanimate technology that was dragging me into the light.

I snatched up the receiver and, before the "machine" could even get a word out, I snarled into the mouthpiece: "Fuck off!!"

There was a long, horrifying silence. Then, instead of the expected robotic tone, a very small, very shocked female voice whispered back:

"Oh... I am so sorry, sir. I hope I didn't get your wake-up call wrong!"

I felt the blood drain from my face as I sat bolt upright in the dark. It turned out the automated system had gone on the blink overnight, and the front desk staff were manually calling every room to ensure the guests weren't late.

I spent the next several minutes in a state of profuse, stuttering apology, trying to explain that I wasn't actually a monster—just a man who had mistakenly declared war on a computer.

Memorable moments: The vowels of doom

During my time at Volvo’s UK headquarters in Duxford, I was part of a high-pressure team tasked with redesigning the global corporate website. One morning, in our hushed, open-plan office, I prepared to pull up the live site at volvo.com for a quick reference check. My fingers flew across the keys, but just as I hit "Enter," a phone call distracted me.

I looked away to answer, leaving the page to load in full view of the room. A few seconds later, my colleague Andre Pocock leaned over, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.

"My goodness, Graeme," he hissed, "what on earth are you looking at?"

I turned back to my screen and felt a jolt of pure, corporate-grade horror. Instead of the safe, Swedish lines of a family station wagon, I was staring at a giant, high-definition, and very explicit anatomical image. 

In my distracted state, my fingers had betrayed me. I hadn't typed the home of the "Iron Mark"; I had swapped the two vowels in volvo with other letters and navigated directly to a site that was much more "biological" than "automotive."

The contrast between Volvo’s brand values and the screen in front of me was absolute. I managed to kill the window before the rest of the department could wander over, but for the rest of my tenure, I never hit the "Enter" key again without the realization that you can't navigate life—or the internet—without a great deal of care.

Memorable moments: The Ryanair descent

They say airline travel is hours of boredom interrupted by moments of stark terror. In 2004, while working for Volvo, I learned exactly how "stark" that terror could be. I was on a Ryanair flight from Stansted to Gothenburg—the kind of extreme low-cost experience where you half-expect to be charged for the air you breathe.

Suddenly, the air decided to leave us.

The plane didn't just dip; it plummeted. We fell a staggering 1,000 metres in a matter of seconds. There was a violent, bone-shaking thump that sent luggage cascading out of the overhead lockers like plastic hail. Then, the nightmare trifecta: smoke began to coil through the cabin, the oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling with a synchronized snap, and the screaming started.

Even the flight attendants, usually the stoic guardians of "tea or coffee," were white-faced with genuine panic. The man sitting next to me broke down completely. He whipped out a photograph of his wife and twin girls, staring at it with the haunted intensity of a man saying his final goodbye.

And me?

I have no idea why. Perhaps it’s some prehistoric, hard-wired glitch in the Myburgh DNA. Amidst the smoke, the screams, and the falling luggage, I got the giggles.

I tried to suppress it, knowing that a full-blown guffaw would be the height of social impropriety while my neighbor was mourning his own life, but I couldn't stop. I sat there, strapped into my seat, giggling uncontrollably into my yellow oxygen mask. It was as if my brain had decided that if we were going down, we might as well go down finding the whole thing ridiculous.

Eventually, the plane stabilized. The smoke cleared, the screaming subsided, and we landed without a word of explanation from the captain. That’s low-cost travel for you: you pay for the seat, but the life-altering trauma is complimentary.

For weeks afterward, I walked around in a state of pure, shimmering euphoria. I had stared into the abyss through a plastic mask while laughing like a maniac, and coming out the other side made the world seem impossibly bright. It turns out that a near-death experience is the ultimate "reset" button—even if your specific reaction to it is enough to make a grieving father think he's seated next to a psychopath.

Memorable moments: The kick of a mule

In 2023, while working for Volvo in Cambridge, I spent my nights in Duxford and my weekends in London. One particular evening, I was invited to my boss's house for a dinner party with my colleagues—a wonderful, mostly Swedish group.

In an effort to be helpful, I volunteered for kitchen duty. My task seemed simple enough: make the tzatziki by mixing five "cloves" of garlic into the yogurt. Being a culinary novice (and, let’s be honest, a bit of an idiot from time to time), I operated under the assumption that a "clove" was the entire, multi-segmented bulb.

I proceeded to mince five entire heads of garlic into a single bowl of yogurt.

The resulting dip didn't just have a "kick"—it had the concussive force of a mule. Surprisingly, the Swedes—who are famously reserved until the schnapps starts flowing—didn't seem to mind. In fact, as the evening devolved into a raucous affair of toasts and table-dancing to ABBA, I felt compelled to enter the spirit of things. I ate a heroic amount of my own toxic creation.

By the time I stumbled onto the train for the ten-minute ride back to my B&B in Duxford, I was well and truly "tiddly." I closed my eyes for a second and woke up ninety minutes later at Liverpool Street Station in London.

Resigned to my fate, I took the tube to our apartment in Hammersmith and crept into bed, trying not to wake Ally. She didn't stir at first, but as the cloud of five fermented garlic bulbs finally reached her side of the mattress, she recoiled in her sleep.

"Oh my God," she gagged, rolling as far away as the bedframe would allow. "You stink!"

I spent the next three days reeking like a medieval plague ward. I set out to impress my Swedish colleagues with my kitchen skills; I ended up proving that while ABBA is timeless, the scent of fifty garlic cloves is practically eternal.

It's Mr Musoni!!

I was delighted to see Hubert, one of my favourite Volvo colleagues, the other day - here in Sydney. It was a great treat. We met up for a beer and meal. He's here on vacation and popped through Sydney on a road trip. His fun Australian mate who Hubert is travelling with is a committed Melbournite and wasn't too complimentary about Sydney so I did my best to put the story right!! Hope to see you here again Hubert - and stay longer in Sydney next time!

One thing I won't miss

The wintry weather! We had a blizard the day before I left.

Final farewell from Volvo

Thanks to Henrik and Ingrid for the fantastic cake

Farewell DVD from Volvo

As part of my farewell, Volvo put together a hilarious video show for me - super imposing my face on various scenes from Crocodile Dundee and other "Down Under" classics. They went to a lot of effort and it was absolutely hilarious. Even better than Martin's farewell presentation. Definitely something I will treasure.

Mats

Best boss I ever had.

One night in Brussels

Bokenas, Sweden

Not a bad place for a web council meeting! It was sad saying goodbye to the council members - I've worked closely with them for close to three years and it's the last council meeting I will attend before we leave.

Trip to Gothenberg

Just got back from a two day planning session in Gothenberg. Weird planning for 2006 when I won't be here at Volvo. But it's good to have things all organised and in place for the guy who is taking over. Great seeing Caroline (as always!) and we had some good fun meals together as a group in the evenings. Here we are at Smaka which is one of my favourite restaurants in Sweden.



This is the lovely view from the office where we held our two day planning session. There was even a "pleasure room" next door with jacuzzi and all sorts of other delights - but no time to use it. Didn't get to enjoy the view the first day either - had a big storm move through and the window was belted with wind and rain.

50 years on the job

Peter has just retired from Volvo after 50 years of employment. Amazing and pretty special.

The dangers of punting

We went punting along the Camb last weekend and saw a suspicious bunch of guys on the bridge ahead. Didn't think too much of it though - until we passed under the bridge and they unexpectedly "bombed" us from the bridge. We got soaked. And loved it - the girls thought the "bombers" were kinda cute and the weather was hot so a bit of a cooler off was just what we needed. Can't say that all the other punters on the river who experienced the same treatment felt as amiable as us though.

Summer evening in Gothenberg

Spent a lovely evening in Gothenberg with some colleagues, including Caroline. Also Marriane, Eric and his lovely wife who I met for the first time. Dinner on a boat, enjoying the evening sun with lots of good laughs. Great company all round. It was great to see Caroline as always. I'm so, so going to miss her when we leave Europe.

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Martin's farewell punt

Another punt down the Camb, this time as a farewell outing for Martin. It was a gloriously sunny day with temperature over 30 degrees. Seemed liked everyone in Cambridge was out soaking up the rays. Ally was in the Lake District with Rosemarie so missed the outing. Afterwards, we went back to Mats and Maria for a steak barbecue. It was a late and rather drunken night.

The forfeits you pay when losing poker at 2 am in the morning

Martin's farewell presentation

Martin, a good friend at work, is leaving Volvo next week to do an MBA in the States. We did a funny farwell presentation for him yesterday where we pasted his face onto magazine covers and other funny things and painted a fantasy picture of where he might head in life. It caused a lot of mirth in the office and was a big success.

Dreamland isn't far away now

I'm sitting in an internet caffee (free!)in Aalborg Airport in Denmark, waiting for a plane to Copenhagan, then to UK.

What a start to the week it has been. After very little travel over the past few months, suddenly it's exploded.

I flew to Salzberg, Austria on Monday morning - necessitating a get up at 4:45 am. Then two busy days of meetings, before flying back to UK last night - arriving home after 11 pm.

Then another 4:45 am wake up call this morning to fly to Denmark for a presentation which I had to prepare on the plane. Arrived at my destination at 1 pm this afternoon and then left at 4 pm to get to the airport. I should be home after 11 pm again tonight.

Needless to say, I shall not be rushing to work tomorrow. They'll be lucky to see me by noon - just in time for a large Volvo lunch!!

Anyway, at least the meetings and presentations went well :)

Caroline visits us in Cambridge

Caroline and Calle visited us this weekend and it was wonderful to spend some time with them. The weather was awful on Saturday so we didn't get to visit Granchester as we hoped. On Friday night, we all went out for Nandos chicken. Thank goodness for Nandos! It's becoming very, very popular in the UK with good reason.