Had a bit of a nasty shock earlier this week.
On Thursday I decided to take the plunge and splash out on one of those shiny new iPhone 3G things. Yes, it’s Apple, and as such it locks you into all sorts of odd restrictions, but what it does do, it seems to do with exception slickth.
Essentially I wanted something that would give me access to email and the web remotely, and that is something it definitely does.
So, I worked from home to take delivery of it on Thursday [1], and it eventually turned up in the hands of an especially taciturn delivery chap. I pulled it all out of its box, hooked up the USB, installed iTunes [2] and switched it on. And it worked! There was shiny Appleness. Huzzah.
A few minutes later, after much gratuitous flicking and sliding to admire the UI, I noticed that iTunes was chirping at me, and spotted that there was a firmware update to be had. “Ahha”, thinks I, “much extra bug fixy goodness!”, and so I click the “install” button.
250MB of download later, there is a progress bar which begins to slide and slide… And slide… And not slide… And, well, just sort of start to sit there, looking a little forlorn. “Hmm”, thinks I. And then an innocent-looking window pops up telling me something’s not quite right with the world.
Oh well, haven’t sorted out the firmware update quite yet then. Never mind. I’ll just play with the iPhone some more… Except it appears to be slightly less functional than it was. The display is telling me to plug it into the PC (which it already was), so I tried plugging it back in. No joy. So I tried resetting it. No joy. I tried hard resetting it. No joy. Um. Oh dear. I’ve just managed to turn it into a brick.
At this point I begin what became about twenty minutes of slightly desperate Googling, whereupon I discovered that the hundred or so other people who appear to have found this problem appear to have fixed it in about a hundred or so different ways, some of which involved shouting down the phone at Apple. Helpful.
Eventually, however, I did manage to restore the device. This was via a combination of reinstalling iTunes, manually deleting the downloaded firmware files to force a fresh download, then restoring the iPhone back to factory settings – lucky I hadn’t put any contact data in yet!
Phew!
Still, it was a nasty half hour. Still, at least it shows how fast the iPhone is – it does nought to brick in less then ten minutes flat.
I wonder if that’s some sort of record?
| [1] | Carphone Warehouse being one of these odd sorts who won’t delivery to anything except the primary cardholder’s address. Because clearly nobody has a day job, right? |
| [2] | Oh, the horror… |
Today’s daily doodle:
I like drawing.
Drawing relaxes the mind – it gives you hands something to do which doesn’t take much concentration. I shall now pause for a second to let the sniggers die down among the Carry On generation.
So, with that in mind, I’ve decided I need to start drawing more, in what I’m pretentiously calling my “doodle-a-day” experiment. Of course I’ll probably get around to doing one every day just like I get around to writing blog entries every day, but I’m an eternal optimist [1].
I should point out that I don’t think I’m particularly good at drawing, but uncharacteristically that doesn’t seem to stop me enjoying it. You never know, if I start doing it more, I might even get better.
So, to start the ball rolling, here’s a pen-and-ink drawing I did the other day:
Well, it’s a start.
| [1] | Some might prefer the phrase “slow learner”. |
On the last day of rest, The Travellers desired to look upon a different land. And so it was that they spake “Let us journey to the fabled realm of Norwich, for lo the legends speak of great castles and rivers of gold, and indeed the sacred book of walks doth impart to us a path that we might tread to better see this realm”. And so it came to pass that they set off upon their trek in search of idyll.
And lo what they discovered was less idyll and more just ill. But I gettest ahead of myself.
As they left fair Cambridge they looked out and saw that sunshine filled the skies. And there was much rejoicing, for it is known from The Texts that walking in sunshine is verily much more pleasant. And they laughed in the faces of the weather oracles for their portents of doom and drizzle had come to naught.
But lo, as they journeyed the skies turned to lead and the air filled with the excretions of the clouds. For they had left the land of Fair, taken a brief detour through the twin kingdoms of Sunny Spells and Scattered Showers, and arrived at last in the realm of Overcast. Or Norwich, as many otherwise knowest it.
This was the First Sign. But The Travellers were filled with hope and journeyed on.
And then didst The Travellers negotiate the shifting maze of Norwich. And verily the one-way system didst cast the wisest into confusion and disarray. And lo the signage was inadequate. But The Travellers didst persist with tenacity [1] and didst make their way at last to The Car Park.
The Car Park was within the domain of the great beast John Lewis and its entrance was hidden. And verily was it decorated with the lore of its endless halls. And deep within the lore lay subtle traps for the unwary, but its font was small and its words too uncountable to read with a line of traffic behind. And the cunning of the beast had hidden the true horror on the back of the open gates whereupon no mortal eyes could discern them.
This was the Second Sign. But The Travellers were filled with anticipation [2] and journeyed on.
And so they did venture forth and assail the trials of Norwich. And there they discovered that the mighty fortress was actually a bit rubbish. And the young ones did roam the streets aimlessly in vast packs as if there was nothing for them to do. And the rivers of gold were due to a printing error on the map.
And lo did The Travellers declare “This is naff! Soddest this for a game of soldiers, We shall tread the path of the sacred book of walks, for the book knows all wonders and shall lead Us to the true glory of Overcast! Er, We mean Norwich!”
And The Travellers did leave the centre of Norwich and set forth upon the path as laid down by the ancients. But one of their number did feel rather queasy and no longer looked upon the path with anticipation.
This was the Third Sign. But The Travellers were filled with determination that they were going to make something of the sodding trip and journeyed on.
But lo the path was also a bit rubbish and the Roman Fort it praised turned out to be a field. And verily there were sheep in the field. But they were as boring as any other sheep. And The Travellers souls became heavy with despair.
And though they stopped in a pub along the way it too suffered the taint of rubbishness that hung heavy in the air of Norwich.
And so it was that they returned to The Car Park with despondancy in their hearts and some sweatiness in their socks. For lo they had ignored The Three Signs.
And then it came to pass that they paid the price for their ignorance. For the gates of The Car Park were barred. And so it was that the sign saying that there was a fifty pound call-out fee to open them was revealed. For the cunning of the beast knows no bounds and he knows he achieves riches not by making it plain that the car park closes at 5:15pm. For verily if the people didst know this they would not leave their car parked there.
So it was that The Travellers had to wait for over an hour under the murky Norwich skies while they waited for someone to come and unlock the gates. And they thought upon their misery and became enlightened.
And they spake thus, “Next time, let us go to Suffolk instead!”.
| [1] | And a quick U-turn in the entrance to Sainsbury’s. |
| [2] | And perhaps a touch of peckishness. |
The sun’s shining, the weather’s hot and it’s a simply gorgeous day – what else can one do but sit inside on the PC and write a blog entry about it?
Actually, that’s slightly less than accuarate [1] – I’m sure the sun’s shining somewhere at the moment, but it’s not here. Well, if it is then someone must have thrown a bucket of treacle over my window.
Yesterday and today, however, have been blissfully warm, just like a proper June [2]. It’s probably global warming or something, I should think, but the best way to worry about serious issues like that is over a beer or five in a nice, sunny beer garden. After all, everyone knows that’s where all the world’s problems get solved. Sure, they often get solved by things like magical hovering air conditioning units about which we’ll somehow fail to work out all the boring details tomorrow morning when we’re sober, but I’ve always believed that piddling little things like feasibility should never get in the way of an elegant solution [3].
I spent most of yesterday with my brother and his family pushing ourselves along the Cam on an oversized tea-tray [4] in the sun, balancing on that fine tightrope between under-tanned and over-tender. Actually, that bit was comparatively easy – it was balancing on the not-so-fine flat bit at the back of the punt that took most of my concentration. Tightropes might be jolly narrow, but they’re also somewhat less inclined to be rammed by giggling gaggles of hapless tourists, propelling themselves at a surprising speed [5] despite their punt pole never appearing to actually connect with anything except the limbs of anybody within three feet.
Still, despite a collision or fifty, one of which being a little unfortunate (hope your back’s feeling better, Bro!), I think, on balance, a good time was had, insomuch as a good time can be “had”, by all. In the case of the children, the excessive consumption of ice-cream probably helped.
In fact, I seem to have been fairly lucky with the weather so far this year. A couple of weeks ago I attended the wedding of my old school friend Darren, which was also a very merry time and similarly blessed with fine sunshine. Before that, I’d got a good few weekends of walking in the sun as well – living in the UK, this is probably quite shocking, so I attach photographic evidence:
http://www.andy-pearce.com/apps/album/item/1495
http://www.andy-pearce.com/apps/album/item/1550
http://www.andy-pearce.com/apps/album/item/1573
So, maybe it’s shaping up to be a fabulous summer?
Hm.
Or maybe the storm clouds are just lulling us into a false sense of security. Better enjoy it while it lasts.
| [1] | Uncharacteristic of me, I know. |
| [2] | As opposed to a British June, that is. |
| [3] | A view I seem to hold in common with large parts of the government. This wouldn’t be so bad if the Official Civil Service Thesaurus (34th edition, volume 18, chapter 9, section 54, paragraph 6) didn’t list “elegant” as a synonym for “tortuously labyrinthine”. |
| [4] | Or “punts” as us quaint old Cambridge locals like to call them. When we say someone’s a “punter” here, it generally means the opposite of what most people understand by the term – to wit, they’re the ones doing the ripping off. |
| [5] | And often in surprising directions. |
Hello! Yes, still alive and all that – it’s just that I wasn’t able to post any blog entries because I… Uh… Fell off a thing and broke both my arms and- Oh, curses, you’ve seen through my cunning excuses. No, just not got around to it as usual.
So, what’s happened since… Um… Ah yes, a quick peek at my own journal reveals that I went to Paris – ooh, that sounded like it was fun, I bet I had a fab time. Well, since Paris, I’ve done lots of the usual sorts of things one does when one is doing the usual sorts of things.
I’ve also been to visit my friend Jenny, which was great – I really need to make more of an effort to go and visit my friends more often. Sorry, my friends! It was during the Easter holidays, but Easter occurring freakishly early this year, the weather was a bit of a mixed bag. Still, we managed to have some lovely strolls in the surrounding area, and an excellent meal out at a lovely pub which had a beautiful view for all of about ten minutes before the sun finished the serious business of going down [1]. If you’re interested, you can take a look at the photos. Er, not of the pub, but other things. Hm. That was a terrible link – good job I’m not a radio DJ. Or a web page.
I was also quite chuffed that I’d recognised that the ceiling of the ballroom at Kedleston Hall was essentially a copy of that of the Pantheon in Rome [2]. Well, I was quite chuffed for around thirty seconds, until Jenny’s mum told me that I was the second person to have told her that on the same day, the first being a nine-year-old girl. So, I’ve got the same level of knowledge as a nine-year-old. Hm. OK, she sounds like a smart nine-year-old – yeah, I’m happy with that.
So, a month after being caught in a freak snow shower in Bakewell [3], we’re only just heading into what feels like Spring! I went for a stroll in the fields on Saturday and pleasant as it was, strolling between blossom-laden boughs and failing miserably to get a decent macro-zoom shot of any butterflies, my overriding thought was “at blooming [4] last!”. Still, better late than never, I suppose. Mustn’t complain too much or it’ll probably start raining again. I tell you, if we get any more complaints about shortages from the water authorities this year, I’m going to go and… Oh, I don’t know, throw a bucket of water over them, or something. Yeah. That’ll show them. Yeah. Hmph.
Right, I’d better shut up now, because I’m really terribly boring. I’ll try and write entries a bit more frequently from now on, just to reduce the risk I’ll have anything remotely interesting to say.
Enjoy the Spring!
| [1] | Well, I assume it’s pretty serious – it took around half a day to get around to it. |
| [2] | I’m glad I didn’t choose that moment to verbally confuse it with the Parthanon – I suspect that might have spoiled my credibility slightly. |
| [3] | And being forced to dash into a nearby tea shop to take cover – oh, the sacrifice! |
| [4] | D’you see what I did there? |
Good grief, I’m not very good at writing journal entries these days, am I? Lucky it wasn’t one of my resolutions this year (he says, quietly crossing it off the list…).
Christmas, as usual, was wonderfully relaxing, but dishearteningly short [1]. The annual visit to my parents was accompanied by the traditional promise that I’ll go and see them more frequently [2], and I ate more than is good for my health – in short, a traditional Christmas.
Since returning, I have also popped into Paris to celebrate a significant birthday of Julie’s [3]. We arrived on the Eurostar without significant incident, aside from having my bags searched on account of carrying a vicious pair of pliers [4], and disembarked to find the hotel and trundle around the city for a time. There we made a slightly unpleasant discovery – our favourite eatery [5], Le Vieux Bistro, was closed! I dearly hope that this was a temporary or seasonal interruption, because it was a lovely little place, but irrespective our cunning plans for dinner were thrown into disarray.
Luckily, we found another gorgeous little place near the Louvre called Le Petit Marchon. It was a cozy little place, the food was great and the service was friendly, too. Definitely somewhere to remember.
The rest of the weekend was largely spent visiting places that I’ve seen before in Paris, but it’s a lovely city and the company was good, so it was great fun nonetheless. I did manage to see inside Notre Dame this time, which is well worth a visit for the vaulted ceiling alone. We also visited Sainte-Chapelle, whose towering stained glass windows are awe-inspiring – plan to see it in bright sunlight if possible!
I did elect to omit a visit to the Eiffel Tower, however, along with Geoff and Jenny. On our alternative wanderings, we managed to find a place calling itself the Musee de Vin, tucked away on a tiny little side street. This was an entertaining little exhibition of wine-making through the ages. It was an interesting little place, but I must admit I’m torn between listing the highlight as the glass of wine at the end, and the extremely friendly lass who brought it to us. I’ll consider it further when I’ve had chance to properly assess the two bottles of the wine I brought back with me…
In any case, a great time was had by all, I think – photos to follow in a few days, for anybody who was there. I’m actually beginning to feel like I know Paris quite well now – that feeling will no doubt last up until the first time I try to navigate there without a map.
Since then the year’s gone more or less as years tend to go, save for some sad news at work – our workforce is now somewhat lighter than it was a few weeks ago, and I don’t mean that they’ve introduced a company diet. I can see the reasoning behind it, but it doesn’t make it any less unpleasant for everyone.
Speaking of diets, that is one resolution I’ve managed to avoid crossing off my list just yet – I’m on a mission to, uh, well, weigh a little closer to a faintly sensible amount. The mission has hit a few hiccoughs so far (the trip to paris being one of them, and a forthcoming skiing holiday being another), but I’ve managed to drop about half a stone so far [6]. Still, the true test is whether I’ll have gone back to pouring chocolate down my throat in a few months once the requirement of fitting into my ski trousers has vanished for another year.
And, well, that’s my life since my last blog entry, probably minus all kinds of interesting and important points, but heaven forbid that something interesting or important goes into a blog – I’m sure that would be illegal or something.
| [1] | For the pedantic among us, Christmas was more or less as short as it always is – I speak, of course, of the holiday in which it was embedded. |
| [2] | Which, to be fair, I intend to do – but equally I have in previous years also. |
| [3] | As everyone knows it’s impolite to discuss a lady’s age in public, so let’s suffice to say that she was entirely content with a recent guess that it might be her 21st. |
| [4] | To be fair they did contain a penknife, but that revelation makes the whole thing much less shocking, so I’ve relegated it to this footnote so nobody without the patience of a saint will ever read it. |
| [5] | As much as you can call it our favourite, being as we’ve only been there once… |
| [6] | For those used to more internationally accepted systems of units, that’s about 278 shekels or an eighth of a firkin. |
Forgive me, Internet, for I have sinned – it has been a month since my last blog entry.
A lot can happen in a month – as it happens, however, it all happened to other people. Actually, that’s not quite true…
Way back in the heady days of November a group of my friends from university and I got together for a weekend, which was excellent fun. We rented a cottage in Leighton Buzzard – despite the name, however, the only circling predator was me as I stealthily stalked the elusive boxes of chocolates that had secreted themselves around the place.
It was fab to see everyone again, though my weekend was slightly marred by me feeling a bit grotty on the Saturday night [1]. A rather excellent Sunday lunch made up for that, though, by virtue of existing in a lovely little pub sat on the canal. There was even a visit from the lesser-spotted Nim, extremely rare outside his native Oxford habitat. Since the last time I’d seen him, he’d taken up kick-boxing, and was off to some competition or other – somehow this wasn’t much of a surprise. I expect he’ll be co-starring with Jackie Chan in a few years or something.
A couple of weekends later, Jarrod and I trundled off to see Bill Bailey live at the Wembley Arena. As usual his ability to disappoint was conspicuous by its absence, and he had everyone in stitches. It was quite a ranty performance in some ways, with him lambasting everyone from The Killers [2] to Asda [3] – it would be entertaining enough to watch anyway, but it certainly helps that most things he comments on seem to strike a chord with me.
Also, watching him and Kevin Eldon roll around the stage on motorised trousers presses was a surreal experience which would no doubt haunt my nightmares if I had any. Actually, since I can very rarely remember my dreams, perhaps I do and it does. That’s not something upon which I wish to dwell.
Speaking of listening to interesting poeple, there was also an interesting interview with Adam Curtis on The Register relatively recently. He’s speaking about his opinions of the BBC and the media in general, and how he feels they’re losing touch with what’s going on in the world. Being El Reg, it also focuses on the effect of blogging and such like on the news. In any case, he always comes across as a fairly sensible chap to me and I can recommend it as an interesting read. It’s also worth listening to the audio, poor quality though it is, as the transcription doesn’t quite touch on all of the same points.
So, the media are scared of the bloggers, eh? Well, maybe I should cover something political to join the bandwagon. Something powerful, something important, something which strikes at the heart of the problems currently facing the world… What about this:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/devon/7126973.stm
| [1] | And no, I don’t believe it was an overdose of either chocolate or alcohol – more like an underdose of sleep, I suspect. |
| [2] | He wasn’t particularly impressed with their lyric “I’ve got soul / but I’m not a solider”, because while it sounds deep and meaningful on superficial inspection, it turns out to be superficial and meaningless on deeper inspection. He does have a point, and now I can’t help but notice when any number of other popular song lyrics suffer from similar failings. |
| [3] | Asda had the temerity to ask him to perform in an advertising campaign for them, the poor, simple fools. |
When I got up today I could tell winter was on its way – the morning air was crisp and cool, the fallen leaves sparkled with frost and my MP3 player’s shuffle seemed fixated on tracks from the “Winter Carols” album.
Along with winter, of course, comes the ancient tradition of the winter lurgies. As usual, they’re sparing no effort in spreading themselves to all and sundry, and I’m currently trying to dispatch one such ne’er-do-well with salvoes of vitamin C and Stepsils [1]. Still, I can’t really complain. Well, I can only complain over MSN, at least – it’s the sore throat, you see.
Speaking of tradition, I had a rare visit with a sizeable chunk of my family last Sunday. It was my fourth niece’s Christening and it was fab to see everyone together again. We were discussing how long it’s been since a lot of us saw each other – it really has been a shocking amount of time when I think about it. I guess it just goes to show how easily people can drift apart in life. I think my brother made a resolution to organise some sort of get-together next summer at Mum and Dad’s place, however. Let’s hope he definitely gets around to it! [2]
On a similar subject, I’m popping along to a gathering of my friends from university this coming weekend, to drown our collective (and, in some cases, prospective) sorrows at being old. Er. Older. Yes, that’s the one. Thinking about it, I also haven’t seen some of them in far too long…
I think I’m going to have to start some sort of “friend log”, where I store the last time I saw all my friends, which emails me every so often to say “Andy, you rubbish sod, go and email your friend, right now! No, don’t make a cup of tea first, come on, you know you’ll get distracted, just send the email! Come on, now! NOW!” [3]
Oh dear, that’s starting to sound quite horribly like something Facebook might do – I must now go and wash my hands.
| [1] | And a drop or two of whisky now and then – purely for medicinal purposes, of course. |
| [2] | Hopefully he’ll also get around to telling Mum and Dad about it at some point between now and then. |
| [3] | I’m not terribly good at being firm with myself, so I tend to write software to be firm with me instead. Of course, I still end up ignoring it most of the time, but at least I also then feel guilty about it. |
It feels almost like another decade since I wrote my last entry – ah, that’ll be because it was, then. Well, for me, at least.
Yes, I hit the “big three-oh” [1] last Sunday and spent pretty much the whole weekend commis- er, celebrating. After a few days of overindulging perhaps just a little, however, I felt a bit like I’d overshot the target somewhat, so I’m now trying desperately to shift back towards youth with a few nights in.
What does thirty feel like? Well, it’s a bit like being twenty except the beer’s more expensive, the hangovers last longer and you can’t go on Club 18-30 holidays any more. However, now I earn a bit more, don’t get drunk nearly so often [2] and I never tended to go on those sorts of holidays anyway – so, basically nothing’s changed! I’ll just keep telling myself that, shall I?
Anyway, I would go on and on about all the fascinating things that have happened in life since I last wrote my journal, but I should really go to bed – us oldies need our sleep, you know! Plus, all the really fascinating things only happened in my head.
So, in essence, this is just a “hey, I’m still alive!” sort of an entry. I’m sure that’s a great comfort to the world at large.
| [1] | My sister even helpfully sent me a “big three-oh” glued to a card, in case I didn’t have one handy. Thanks for the reminder, Cath… (Actually I really did appreciate all the cards I got – thanks everyone!) |
| [2] | Ahem, sorry about the coughing fit – I must be coming down with a cold. |
Well, now that I’ve finally got through my Peru journal, I suppose it’s time I face the cold, harsh reality of having to write new journal entries. Woe is me.
The contrast with the holiday has somehow been never more sharp than this morning, as I tramped into work through the wind-driven drizzle [1] – it felt like I was walking through a giant sneeze. On the flip side of the coin, it’s given me an excuse [2] to have a Bakewell Tart with lunch. Well, you’ve got to look on the bright side, haven’t you? [3]
Thinking back to Peru reminds me of the terrible earthquake which occurred there recently, destroying most of Pisco in the process. It’s hard not to consider that we were there less than three months ago, and that vast swathes of what we saw now lies in rubble. Luckily our tour guide, Jo, is fine, and doesn’t know anybody personally who was affected. My heart goes out to the locals around there – I got the impression it wasn’t an affluent area to begin with, and I suspect the Peruvian government might struggle to provide the level of aid they now require. Let’s hope the international community can bridge the gap.
I’m not sure about anybody else, but I quite regularly realise how grateful I am that I live in the UK, where we don’t have earthquakes or volcanoes and where the local flora and fauna doesn’t generally try to poison you or worse.
Hmm, drizzle is quite pleasant, actually, isn’t it? I think I’ll pop outside and enjoy it for awhile.
| [1] | If you try saying that after a few pints, will it come out as wind-driven drizzle drivel? |
| [2] | I’ve decided to only allow myself comfort food under extreme duress, as part of my new dieting strategy. Previous excuses have been, variously: “I’ve slept through my alarm and now I’m late”, “it’s Monday” and “I don’t yet have an excuse to buy a Bakewell Tart”. |
| [3] | There’s not much to see on the other side, after all. |