Flux (no capacitor)

It is a time of significant change.

I have moved from Rugby. It wasn’t that much of a wrench to leave. Although that little house was perfect for me (and perfect for the bikes), the fact that I haven’t lived there for the last six months made the parting easier – and very logical.

Unfortunately I have had to shut down the podcast for a while, though I do I hope to bring it back when the world changes once again.

I do miss the stream of gigs that out-of-reach Oxfordshire offered. But I think I miss seeing my favourite bands live more than I miss the regular gigs themselves. Besides, I’m getting home too knackered to consider going out on the weekday evenings, and my weekends don’t have too much down time!

I’m mostly commuting to work (Northampton) on the ZX9R. Except when the weather is awful, obv. I need to check the mileage on the ZX9R, but I keep forgetting. I’ve had it just under a year and I reckon I’ve put about 20,000 miles on her clock in the last 12 months. I haven’t heard from the insurance company about the future of the Daytona.

In the tech world I’m having an interesting problem with directory-based permissions on a server, where the FTP user can upload files, but the WordPress user can’t (error message: the uploaded file could not be moved to wp-content).

And I discovered a very interesting domestic technical problem yesterday, where the Smart TV lost a bunch of stations. Eventually I switched the TV off at the mains, unplugged the aerial, switched on, rescanned and found them again. An hour later they were gone again. As the problem was obviously ours, not the transmitter, I played around with some of the other devices nearby. I soon discovered that if I switched the Playstation off, the missing channels came straight back. Bizarre.

What’s in a name?

I’ve never been a big ‘give things a name’ person.

But somehow – please don’t ask how, I can’t answer it! – my motorbike deserves a name.

I want to call it ‘Bandit’.

Because, you know, it is a Suzuki 650cc Bandit.

A friend says I should call it ‘Weasel’.

I have no idea why.

So three questions really.

  1. Do you name things (cars, boats, planes, bodyparts, bicycles etc)
  2. If so, what things do you name and what do you name them? And
  3. What name do you prefer for my motorbike?

Happy St George’s Day?

Apparently today is St George’s Day.

St George (a Greek guy), is the Patron Saint of England.

St George is famous for killing a dragon.

A creature that hasn’t actually ever existed.

Erm.

Is this right?

It’s certainly true that, according to historical traces, St George was about as English as the late Grecian cleric, Archbishop Damaskinos Papandreou.

And it is also true that Dragons haven’t ever walked this planet.

So.

I’m not sure who the biggest laugh is on, the English – for adopting this fabrication – or the Catholic Church – for bestowing a Sainthood on a Greek guy who killed something that doesn’t exist.

Bonkers.

Uppers and downers

I have just performed a magic trick.

I spent half an hour in the kitchen making a meal.

And then I sat on the couch (because I am a slob, obv).

And I made it disappear.

Magic!

Cottage pie, new potatoes, broccoli, peas, gravy and *cough* baked beans.

All gone.

*sniff*

I am bereft.

And also a bit HYPER!

All this week I am working very full days in a hole beneath Salisbury Plain.

It’s a 200-mile round-trip that takes a smidge under four hours both ways.

Yesterday, just for the briefest microsecond, I almost – but not quite – nodded off.

At 70mph on the A303.

Yeah, not good.

So today, before I set out on the return journey, I drank heavily from the cup of RED BULL.

And as a result I’m just A LITTLE BIT HYPER.

Anyway.

I had my electric guitar restrung today, and had the action lowered, just for good measure.

I think the guy who lowered the action is a blues guitarist, it feels really slick and easy now.

Meanwhile.

I’m a little concerned that I might have a Red Bull crash.

You know.

Just fall asle….

Only kidding!

I’m still here.

And still hyper.

Coming up in this week’s show – for those who listen to the podcast – we have a live interview with a very special guest.

Yep, an internationally-renown, globally famous British actor, will be gracing us with his distinctive vocal presence in this week’s show.

I’m so excited.

I haven’t told Soph, my co-presenter, yet.

It’ll be a nice surprise for her.

I’m so excited.

Oh.

Have I said that already?

Must be the Red Bull.

Hmm…

I have another two days of this week to go.

I’m not sure I’ll get through them.

Impenetrable logic

Sometimes a thing comes along and we look at it and we say ‘WTF?’.

And we look at it again and we say ‘WTF?’.

Then we look at it again.

And again.

And again.

And ‘WTF?’ is the only thing in our brainspace.

Here’s today’s ‘WTF?’ moment:

click twice for a big picture

Click click click. Not click woosh.

This happened a few days before Christmas Day

I flipped on the shower, fetched my towel, jumped under the water and jumped straight back out again.

It was freezing.

When I got downstairs and checked the boiler it was in a state of suspended animation.

I did the ‘reset’ button-pushing thing and the boiler switched itself off.

It came back to life but instead of doing the click whoosh, the burner didn’t burn.

Click click click.

I did the ‘reset’ button-pushing thing again.

Off.

Click click click.

I called people and went to work. Showerless.

Two hours later I had an email.

Apparently condenser boilers are prone to switching themselves off when the weather gets chilly and by chilly I mean excessively cold and by excessively cold I mean lower than, say, -15c.

The temperature had got down to -19c in the night.

So us folk with condensing boilers have pieces of equipment that don’t work when it gets *really* chilly.

That’s good.

Isn’t it?

Bit out of it

Not manflu, just a cold. But it got me up at 2.15am with a case of the shivers. So I sat downstairs for a couple of hours and listened to music and twittered a bit.

I’ve spent most of today in bed, apart from a trip up to the stables this afternoon. I didn’t ride, I feel so weak that Tom would have taken me for a ride in more ways than one.

This evening Soph made me ‘poorly boy’ tea: cheesy beanz on toast with the reminder of an industrial-sized vat of potato salad. And a mug of tea, obv.

I have just challenged Soph to a game of scrabble. Later we will do formation line-dancing in the snow-covered garden.

Maybe.

We might video it.

Perhaps.

Don’t go holding your breath, now.

These could be the thoughts of an unwell mind.

These boots were made for walking

According to the pedometer in my phone (I know! Twenty years ago, who would have thought that sentence could ever be constructed?) I walked 8.1 miles yesterday.

I estimate I’ll walk just 3 miles today, but I am going to try and play Rounders tonight.

If my feet don’t drop off, between now and 6pm.