Scratch

Here you will find older scratches, musings and other detritus that once were located on the front pages, but have now faded.

Filed away here to collect dust and cobwwwebs in perpetuity, links may break, facts may change and data may corrupt.

On occasion I may come down here to tidy, but for the most, I prefer to leave the past where it lies.

Monthly Archives

01/07/2008 - 31/07/2008 01/06/2008 - 30/06/2008 01/05/2008 - 31/05/2008 01/04/2008 - 30/04/2008 01/03/2008 - 31/03/2008 01/02/2008 - 29/02/2008 01/01/2008 - 31/01/2008 01/12/2007 - 31/12/2007 01/11/2007 - 30/11/2007 01/09/2007 - 30/09/2007 01/08/2007 - 31/08/2007 01/07/2007 - 31/07/2007 01/06/2007 - 30/06/2007 01/05/2007 - 31/05/2007 01/04/2007 - 30/04/2007 01/03/2007 - 31/03/2007 01/02/2007 - 28/02/2007 01/01/2007 - 31/01/2007 01/12/2006 - 31/12/2006 01/11/2006 - 30/11/2006 01/10/2006 - 31/10/2006 01/09/2006 - 30/09/2006 01/08/2006 - 31/08/2006 01/07/2006 - 31/07/2006 01/06/2006 - 30/06/2006 01/05/2006 - 31/05/2006 01/04/2006 - 30/04/2006 01/03/2006 - 31/03/2006 01/02/2006 - 28/02/2006 01/01/2006 - 31/01/2006 01/12/2005 - 31/12/2005 01/11/2005 - 30/11/2005 01/10/2005 - 31/10/2005 01/09/2005 - 30/09/2005 01/08/2005 - 31/08/2005 01/07/2005 - 31/07/2005 01/06/2005 - 30/06/2005 01/05/2005 - 31/05/2005 01/04/2005 - 30/04/2005 01/03/2005 - 31/03/2005 01/02/2005 - 28/02/2005 01/01/2005 - 31/01/2005 01/12/2004 - 31/12/2004 01/11/2004 - 30/11/2004 01/10/2004 - 31/10/2004 01/09/2004 - 30/09/2004 01/08/2004 - 31/08/2004 01/07/2004 - 31/07/2004 01/06/2004 - 30/06/2004 01/05/2004 - 31/05/2004 01/04/2004 - 30/04/2004 01/03/2004 - 31/03/2004 01/02/2004 - 29/02/2004

 

Michael Turner

RIP Michael Turner, a truly gifted artist and writer.

Glasto

Having just finished watching Jay-Z's Glastonbury appearance, two things strike me. First, and without actually being there so sans atmosphere it looked an ok headliner, but nothing like Radiohead or Muse of previous years. Secondly, the market in Dennis Tayler-esque glasses is going to soar, especially I suspect in thin ill looking white guys wearing baggy jeans.

Abandon All Hope

Dante's Divine Comedy depicts an allegorical vision of the Christian afterlife, showing the three areas:

• Inferno - Nine circles with the last three being split into three rings, ten bolgias and four zones respectively - eternal suffering and torment in varying degrees ;
• Purgatorio* - Two pre-terrace, erm, terraces, 7 terraces and a seperate garden, erm, terrace - essentially an honor system allowing you to leave a terrace once you believe you have atoned for you sins*; and
• Paradiso - nine spheres of Heaven based upon your devotion to God;

One area that in my mind seems to have been omitted is the level, presumably transcending Hell and Purgatory, that looks mysteriously like a large concert hall. Therein lies a single solitary SingStar microphone where individuals take it in turns under the blazing lights to sing songs they don't know in vocal ranges they don't have. Slightly above them, and in rather too close proximity to the stage lighting, is a small cramped mezzanine level where people sit on uncomfortable stools and listen to the performers.

As to which area is Purgatory and which is Hell I am unsure, nor do I know what sins the poor individuals would have committed to deserve such punishment. I just know, neither option really appeals.

'You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave...'

A Mobile Life

I remember when I got my first mobile, not necessarily the exact details (me being at the end of my second year of University) but most of the facts. The where was Chatterbox Telecom - 184a Cowley Rd, Oxford. The who was John. The what was an Orange badged Motorola StarTAC. The when was 15 May 1998 (10 years ago today) and the why... well thats one of the facts I can't quite remember.

They were heady days. Texting the three or so other people we knew with phones to see if they had escaped from their 10am lecture in sufficient time to be in a position to stand at the bar and order at 11am*.

Time passed, and the numbers with phones that we knew rose into double figures. I remember the conversations when 'The Matrix' came out, and everyone marveled at the bananaphone which was quickly redesigned into the Nokia 7110 which if memory serves**, I think Stu was the first to get. He was also I believe the first to break it. On a reassuring note, even with the Navi wheel as it was then, he has never escalated into a crackberry, though he now has an iPhone...

Over the decade that would follow I have been through, by my counting 2 free replacements, 5 upgrades and 2 freebies. There would be shares of ups and downs. Happiness and sadness can be transmitted from or to wherever you were. The flaw in the plan is the word 'mobile' always there, ready to bleep when you least want it to to make or break your day... I would say when you least expect it, but I guess by definition it will only beep when you are staring at it really not wanting it to and so that means you are expecting it, or perhaps in some sixth sense-esque way making it ring.***

Ignoring the cost to ones sanity, relationships and general well being, one key element however can be quantified.. the cost to the pocket. Before I divulge this cost lets see what milestones I have 'achieved'.

Over the last ten years, I have:

• Talked for a total of 26 Days, 13 hours and 50 minutes
of which
• June 2001 was the highest with 20h, 53m & 30s;
• Febuary 2006 was the lowest with 29m & 44s;
and
• the average being 5h, 19m & 07s

• Texted a total of 30,028 message
of which
• November 1999 was the highest with a staggering 1032 texts (which also accounted for the longest bill of 29 pages, compared to the average 9 and lowest being 2);
• March 2006 was the lowest with 14 texts;
and
• the average is an unhealthy 250 texts a month (although if you only go back 5 years the average is a marginally better 77 texts a month)

These are just differing scales of markers on the road that is my mobile life. They are more easily resolved against other peoples mobile lives as they do not change with time - a minute or a text are exactly that whatever phone you have or whatever plan/network you are on. There is another set of markers however that we traditionally put more weight and relevance on:

• July 2007 was the cheapest bill at £22.20;
• October 1999 was the most expensive bill at £207.46;
and
• the average is £63.62 (although for the past 5 years this drops to £40.36)

The cost though, the bottom line cost, for the long calls to friends, the arrangements to meet down the pub, the moral support, the wrong numbers, the condolences and the celebrations, the memories - both good and bad, the accidentally leaning on the phone and calling the police, the replacement handsets... the sum total of my mobile life to date is £7884.70.

Not a small amount by any means. Whilst not wishing to change the past, I shall however be bearing this in mind for the future as I watch to see what other devices (crumpet toaster anyone?) can be added to phones... When I first got a phone you could (just about) make calls and send texts, now, you can do a hell of a lot more, take photos, watch tv, replicate PC functions... ...If only I could get a signal at work.

As a closing note, if you are interested, you can click here and see a graph of my minutes, texts and bill totals...

Remember kids, practice safe text.

Ooooh

If it wasn't for the fact I am currently receiving treatment on my back, I would be more concerned by the fact every time I sneeze I get pins and needles in my legs followed by a short period of numbness.

Its All Going To Be Ok

I don't know why I remembered this image courtesy of Warren Ellis. Perhaps I need to cut back on coffee and crises at work.

Also got me thinking about whether to hold out for an oversized collected edition of Transmetropolitan or just buy the individual trades. And on the subject of commercialism that I wasn't, but Spider Jerusalem's was, here is a digital interpretation - 'Monoculture'.

GTA IV Influences Violence. And Queuing

After reading the BBC News article entitled 'Stab attack at Grand Theft Queue' I was left with a curious thought. If a man is passionate enough about his gaming and obviously British enough to queue up in an orderly fashion for several hours to buy a game at midnight, I cannot understand what could possibly make him voluntarily leave his place to stab someone seemingly at random. Even bearing in mind that the Police might not turn up and arrest him before the shop still opens, he is still going to have to rejoin at the back of the queue or face a unending barrage of hushed 'tsk-ing' muttered in his general direction until he leaves like a social pariah.

The British public may turn a blind eye to a stabbing less than a few yards from them, but pushing back into a queue you have clearly left is just not happening, not without serious social consequences. Perhaps slap someone with a glove and make arrangements for a later date, but leave a queue?

Seriously though, the Johnny Cash song 'Don't Take Your Guns To Town' seems pretty apt. With respect to the game, I suspect there would be less uproar if it had been for release of a new My Little Pony. I can see the news headline now, Man beaten with saddle recovers in hospital...

Edit 30 Apr 2007 13:47:According to The Register however

A hooded male stabbed another man in the head and neck yesterday as they both queued to buy copies of Grand Theft Auto IV from a Croydon Gamestation store... it’s thought that the two men were just rude to one another.

Perhaps more notable is

The victim managed to survive the ordeal - and stumbled home to grab a knife for a revenge attack. However, he collapsed in the street on his way back to the store.

British queuing jokes aside, perhaps its just me but I cannot imagine what words could've been said, let alone what the guy thought he would achieve by heading for revenge rather than medical attention.

Perhaps its the people who play the game that are to blame rather than the game itself. If you can't differentiate between pixels and real life...

Less Guitar Hero, More Average Session Musician

I presume like many an aspiring musician in the formation of a band, the choice of which instrument you end up with is defined by both what the other, better, musicians can play, and also what instrument can be afforded*.

As such I find myself using the Wiimote to play the bass part.

Now don't get me wrong, whilst not quite as glamourous as wanging around a lead guitar, its about the participating and a bass guitar, however small in this instance, is still a core element of a band...

I know its not about appearances, but perhaps I would feel more rock n roll if I stood up. Or perhaps took off my slippers. Only the other day I was watching some footage of Queen and saw John Deacon wearing a tank top whilst on stage....

A Bad Influence

So I was watching TMF earlier, and the video for Footloose by Kenny Loggins came on. Ok, nothing wrong so far. Angst ridden Kevin Bacon with 80s hair - check. Dancing - check. Alcohol - check. Car - check. Cigarette dangling from lips - fail.

So its ok to show a angst ridden teenager drinking and driving, but not smoking. Holding a cigarette yes. Putting it to his lips, no. Strangely enough, this also happened to Sandy later when singing You're The One That I Want. She appeared to be sucking on a small cloud, but as she removed it, it was replaced by a cigarette which she threw to the floor.

Curiouser and uriouser said Alice, presumably whilst not smoking.

Gone

Today saw the passing of Arthur C. Clarkeand Anthony Mingella. Both will be sadly missed.

This Is Not Just A Voiceover...

Just a random thought, who would you rather have whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the M&S voiceover woman, or the Orange Answerphone woman...

Science(ish) In Action

In a completely unregulated, unsupervised and generally unscientific trial, I will shorty be able to report categorically whether ingestion of a female oral contraceptive by a recently neutered male cat prevents conception by the test subject.

Less apparent will be whether the contemporaneous ingestion of anti-histamines reduces the as of yet non-apparent allergic reaction he may have to himself.

Catalogue Shopping

The other day I was leafing through a furniture catalogue to try and get some ideas for shelving and sitting in the comfort of my own, home with a cup of tea, I found myself drawn to things I didn't want, didn't need and if I had seen in a crowded shop would have trusted my gut instincts, dismissed it and moved on without a second thought.

In a catalogue there is no such pressure.

I desired things, and was interested only because they were less crap than the things that surrounded them and there were hundreds of pages of such tat, and that is not the way to go about shopping. In the end, having decided that I didn't want to either waste my time and risk filling the house with utter shite from catalogues, I resorted to searching for misspelled items of undesirableness on eBay.

Don't ask me why.

Monday Mornings

Monday mornings are always a difficult time. Generally two days of not working, getting up late follewd by an early start is always a recipe for disaster. Or at least comedy.

Take this morning.

For the last couple of days I have been stumbling every once in a while. I figured it was a hangover (quite literally) of my boss going away for a couple of days, but as I tripped over and dived down the work corridor throwing the contents of my bag, which I happened to be looking through, everywhere. Luckily it was a bit before 7:30, so only the cleaner was there to snigger. Thinking enough was enough, I resolved to either stop feeling crap of a morning, or fix my foot. Luckily it was my foot, or rather my boot that was broken in so far as the sole was coming away at the row. Reaching up to get some 2 part epoxy I carefully filled the tip of the shoe, and gently putting pressure to hold it together, got on with checking my mail.

About fifteen minutes later, I stood up and realised that I was either getting weaker in my old age, or I had accidentally glued my foot to the floor. Annoyingly, as I gently pulled my foot it was the adhesive between the upper and the sole which gave first, only excacerbating things.

With a start like this, the week can only get better.

Tired

I am always amazed by how tired and lethargic I am of a morning after I have been drinking the night before, even if it wasn't much.

Guess I am just getting old.

Hmmm Chinesey Goodness

I knew having a relation who owns a chinese delivery service would come in handy.

Might have to roll off to bed soon.

RIP Heath

You shall be missed.

Poo Sticks

Well at least my optimism and entusiams for the new year lasted three working days. Next year I shall set my sites more realistically and go straight to the down-trodden pessimism.

It should make it easier for all concerned rather than trying to fight the inevitable.

Happy New Year

Lets see if I can keep any resolutions... obviously it helps I've made some this time.

Peace On Earth Etc

With November being consigned to the bin and December rolling onto our calendars, so begins the month that is 'x' many shopping days to Christmas*.

Admittedly the seasonal for most shops has been stocked with Christmasy goodness since Halloween ended a month ago**, but it is now at least the same calendar month as the event itself.

As is always the case at this time of year, whilst we are filling up our shopping trolleys with both convenience and luxury foods, non-recyclable crap which will shortly be junked, and a thousand and one things you'll never use again, please take just one minute to look at the global picture and spread a little of that goodwell to all men.

In this time of ever increasing tension between nations, the growing divide between the developed/developing world, the millions of starving people and the ever increasing threat of extinction we face as a species from global warming, its time we as educated people need to stop and think for just one moment about putting the planet, its people and their combined future first over our own selfish needs. Stop and think for just one minute.

Done that? Cool, well quickly rush out to the shops to spend your hard earned cash on 1000s of twinkly fairly lights to cover your house in and leave them running 24/7. Afterall, its winter in the predominately developed northern hemisphere, so it'd save all of us on our heating bills. You could even take a picture of it to send to starving orphans. It would really cheer them up to see all those pretty lights.

Contractors

Contractors, like anything, can be good or they bad for you. Much like salt. Too little you die. Too much you die. Just right however, and next thing you know you're on the floor having been clubbed to death by an angry bear.

One minute you are in an exhibition centre and the next you are in an Executive box @ Twickenham. Offers of lunch in the afternoon to tie in with a work are good. Better if its remote from the office. Not so good if they get caught in traffic, thereby commiting you to sit and wait, perhaps doing some paperwork here or there as you idly watch the clock tick by, knowing of the impending doom that inevitably awaits when you eventually get home, but unable to do anything to speed things up.

Its bad enough that you arrive home late because of traffic that you had no control over. Not through some pre-arrangemnt or other nefarious activity, just bad luck.

And on the occasion you do have a beer as you wait, whats worse, arrive home having been out drinking or admit you paid for it?*

Try explaining that one away.

Moved

Whilst to me it seems an absolute age that we moved, looking back at the calendar it was only six weeks ago. It seems strange to think in that time, we have seen the start and end of the Rugby World Cup 2007, and erm, other important stuff.

The move itself began promising. Unlike when we moved into the flat we a) didnt sleep through the alarm*; and b) weren't hungover. Vans were collected, porters (read Smully and Dan) turned up on time and the labour (of necessity) began.

Heavier items and large scale furniture was first. Most went quickly and quietly.... the sofa being the obvious exception. Necessity meant doors and hinges were seperated after many years of happy unison, much like our respective vertebrae would be come nightfall. It wasn't so much that the individual seats of our sofa were difficult (although they were cumbersome) it was that the inconveniently ever present gravity meant the sofa bed kept catapulting out much like an air bag in a car crash, just without the space to expand fully or any regard for our safety/welfare**.

Sofas aside, there were few troublesome objects. The main problem was the sheer number and volume of boxes. I am sure better physicists and mathematicians than I could work out the correct formula based on the number of people, the nuber of rooms and length of stay. In fact I am almost certain they could, because, lets be frank, my estimation was 'somewhat' off. Four hours after completion we finally left the flat, dropped off the keys and slammed straight into rush hour on the North Circular, via Burger King in Park Royal - an alternate definition of 'Fast Food'. 2 hours later and one family member to pick up the keys we were in. Unloading took a bit less than two hours, even after we lost a pair of hands (not literally). Dropping the van back and then hopping on both the last tube and the last train saw me walking home from the station, to a new home, at 2am. :)

To be continued.

Why?

'Why?' was the question I asked of text answer service AQA (Any Question Answered - 63336) the other night given the conversation had gone rather philosophical. Out of the possible replies, the one I received was rather unexpected.

'AQA: There is no reason why the Red Jungle Fowl used to roam in ancient India. Like everything in nature, the chicken's heritage is a matter of pure chance.'

Who would have thought.

When I pointed out I was perhaps looking for a general answer to life and its mysteries which was less chicken orientated, I received,

'AQA: As so many parents have said through the years, the answer to the question 'why' is 'just because'. Ah, the wisdom of parents!'

I feel happier now, although I am becoming inceasingly worried about the part played by Red Jungle Fowl in the bigger picture...

Lethargy

Earlier in the year, we made the decision that our small flat in London had served its purpose and that we were now ready to move to the country to raise Llamas*. Now some five months later, one fall through buyer, two abortive attempts to move and two months of living out of boxes we are almost there and have to wait just 9 days.

Part of the problem is that everything is on hold and I have no motivation to do anything. Our life is in boxes as it has been for some months and whilst I have odd work to do on various PCs or with photos, its hard to get the motivation. Especially when the lure of a new home and the opportunity to spread things out whilst woking is so close. Of course whats made this more inconvenient is the fact that we have booked a total of 6 weeks off to move and we haven't, yet we shall now be moving on a Thursday three days after I go back to work.

But we're moving. And I guess thats what matters.

Today In History

Add to the earlier posting that today will be the day where we will be taking a very roundabout route to get into London (courtesy of the RMT*) to finally sign papers for the new house. Coincidentally, it is four years 360 days to the day when we brought this place and said it would be our home for five years.

Part of me suspects this is more luck than judgement...

This Day In History

Courtesy of the The History Channel the main one seems to be in 476AD when the Western Roman Empire falls:

Romulus Augustus, the last emperor of the Western Roman Empire, is deposed by Odoacer, a German barbarian who proclaims himself king of Italy. Odoacer was a mercenary leader in the Roman imperial army when he launched his mutiny against the young emperor. At Piacenza, he defeated Roman General Orestes, the emperor's powerful father, and then took Ravenna, the capital of the Western Empire since 402. Although Roman rule continued in the East, the crowning of Odoacer marked the end of the original Roman Empire, which centered on Italy.

Other names to crop up include Mark Spitz, Natalia Makarova, Queen Elizabeth II, Gladys Knight, Napoleon, Geronimo; places include Greenham Common, LA and Australia; finally also the Filming of the Titanic in 1985. Needless to say the above list generally arent connected in any way.

Not that these people, those places or the dates wouldn't have been any more or any less important compared to others. Its just a thought.

Laters alligators...

Break

Not the break in the welcome-to-a-new-house-everyone-pop-over-for-a-bbq way I originally planned, but hey, a breaks a break.

There will be time enough for other stuff later.

Hmmmm

Oh dear. I apprear to be getting melancoly in my advanced years.

Motivation And Personalisation

People have different ways of personalising there office space, whether it be photos, trinkets or cutouts. In The Simpsons’ sixth season episode "And Maggie Makes Three" Burns places a plaque in Homer’s station saying "Don't forget: you’re here forever", to remind him that he could never quit again. After the birth of Maggie however, he changes the sign by strategically covering it with photos*.

Me, I have small cut cartoon outs from Dilbert, Nemi, Least I Could Do and Calvin and Hobbes that cover a selection of work and personal topics I find either amusing or motivational.

Most of these I have electronic copies of so when, as I had to on Friday re-pin them, I thought I would replace some of the tattier ones. One of these included a Calvin and Hobbes so I used it as an excuse to read through 10 years of archives to find it again**.

It was during this that it struck me how good the comic was and how insightful it could be. One particular one (09/11/94) caught my eye and I thought I would share. It is a very simple two panel strip of Calvin and Hobbes walking through the forest talking about mankind. Its one of the recurring themes found in the strip, and each time is given weight and made more poignant by being said by a six year old kid. Perhaps it should be compulsory reading and pin board material for politicians.

Dilbert archives next I think.

Yay

More office moves tomorrow.

Irony

When trying to do a repair install, nothing beats a non booting windows PC that BSoDs with the in formation code:

0x0000007B (0xF78D2524, 0xC0000034, 0x00000000, 0x00000000)

Now the question is, do I risk a clean install to solve all the odd glitches that have started cropping up, potentially fubaring my install.

Decisions decisions...

Ce Weekend

Its strange, if everything would have gone to plan we would have woken up in our new house, but as it is, were not. Maybe soon if all goes to plan.

As it is, I am trying to upgrade my webserver. Not having much luck. Its like bnging my head against a wall, just less productive.

Time

I tend not to notice the passage of time as it drifts by on its merry way to wherever it goes*, though on the occasion when I sit, think and look back, I am not only amazed by how quickly things, relatively speaking, have happened, but also my perception/recollection of said events. Certain memories/feelings that I remember from 10 years ago are as fresh as those of the smell of coffee this morning, both those I would consider as important and those I would consider inconsequential**. Other memories, perhaps ones I attribute less importance to, are more hazy, perhaps just a feeling, or an image, but not both.

It is often said*** that time moves too quickly, and certainly to me it seems that each year, each season, each month, each moment that passes is shorter than the one before. Days may be tedious and boring filled with nothing making them drag. Several of these without anything interesting to define inbetween however makes for a gap in my memory and with nothing to anchor them down or stand them apart, just become a dull blur. Days that are memorable, for some event or emotion (inevitably these are the days that are over too quick), become lodged forever as a synaptic path burnt across my brain, which will remain either until it fades (perhaps not burnt enough), is replaced or I die.

Aware as I am of its existence, but completely unable to forsee myself ever using the statement I have forgotten more than you will ever know I know of things that I remember with less frequency and certainly with less clarity than I remember myself remembering before and that worries me. I suspect though that this is the inevitable downside to getting older, doing more things and accumulating more memories. I do wonder as a response to this whether my memory reprioritises memories****, snipping bits off here and there, a little compression to save space, etc.

I guess I am just considering whether remembering, or re-visiting these memories changes them, whether it be conciously or subconciously. Sure I am not going to forget life changing events within a few minutes*****, but with the passage of time, can I trust myself and to remember events/feelings accurately. If I am in a good mood when I recount details, do I put a positive spin on them, or perhaps if I feel miserable, do the rainclouds drift in so to speak. And if so, do the synapses subtly alter? Observation changes both the observer and the observer, and as such can I trust my own memory not to tweak bits here and there? I suspect Schrodinger never posulated on a very pissed off pony appearing when he opened the box.

I am not sure why I chose to write this post. Reading back over it some 40 minutes after multiple re-workings, it is not the light and reflective piece I had intended (although a small portion of that remains, albeit in the footnotes). I suspect its just because I have been thinking about things a lot today. I think its just worrying that things have changed and I don't remember them as I should. The thought that things for better, for worse, and that perhaps by not being able to believe 100% in something, I somehow reduces its worth and it saddens me that I can't be sure.

Obviously I can never know, and if I am honest there is little I can do to make amends, but If I can't trust myself, who can I trust?

Perhaps its nothing, and I probably need to get some sleep.

Tuesday

To be fair its mostly Mondays that get the bad wrap. Bob Geldof had it pretty much bang on when he wrote I don't like Mondays and The Bangles tapped into every workers pain with Manic Monday. Things didn't pan out well for Solomon Grundy and Garfield was never a big fan.

Today though, I am personally leaning towards Call It Stormy Monday (But Tuesday Is Just As Bad) by T-Bone Walker.

Thing N Wotnots N Stuff

Has been a long weekend so far.

Most of yesterday was spent at work with various contractors ironing out glitches and omissions in the design of the electrical supply, mainly to do with alterations to our flywheel UPS' to allow syncronisation of supply frequencies across a common bus bar to allow us to alter their respective loadings, but also changes to the cooling system to allow more accurate throttling when the load is transferred to the genset. Whilst his took me a little over 2 minutes to type, it actually took me leaving the house a bit before six in the morning, and then arriving back a little over twelves hours later.

Now I am just playing with technology of my own. Over the past few weeks, the server hardware and software that this site is housed on has been a bit problematic, so I decided to upgrade and rebuild it completely. This has the benefit that I can correct some underlying problems, but I always feel a a clean O/S with new programs is more stable than a heavily upgraded/patched system. I hope to do this out of spares so there should be minimum disruption (fingers crossed).

However, theres going to be on-off server downtime over the next few weeks, whilst inevitable problems are ironed out, but also whilst we move, which will effect this site, others and email, and whilst I will do the best I can to get it up and running, but it will also depend on arranging a new ISP.

All good clean fun.

Two Weeks

...(fingers crossed) till we move.

woot.

CSI (2)

...Gah! To be concluded. NEXT. FRICKN'. YEAR!

CSI

Season finale, season finale!