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I gave serious thought, first thing (like, 4.30am first thing) to not getting up and staying in bed all day. However, by the time the alarm went off at 5.51am (I don't like round numbers on alarms), I was feeling slightly better, and the ear-ache, in particular, had started to subside.

Besides, Mali wouldn't have been too impressed if I'd failed to surface (although I'm sure P would have coped, somehow).

It's been a fairly mundane Sunday - although I've been trying to avoid heading into town these last few weekends-before-Christmas, ex had asked me to pick up a Debenhams gift voucher, so we did indeed set forth and brave the... well, masses might be overstating it. I'm not saying that town was quiet, exactly, but it certainly wasn't heaving.

A queue jumper nearly came to blows with me in Debenhams, actually - we'd picked up the gift cardlet thing, and were queueing, as one does, at the 'please queue here' sign, waiting for an available cashier, when this middle-aged woman steamed straight past, to stand immediately behind the person being served, looking impatient.

A second till opened up, and the woman called out 'next, please,', at which point the afore-mentioned queue-jumper thrust her stuff onto the counter, and *gold star moment*, the shop clerk said 'actually, I think the gentleman was first.'

"No he wasn't," snapped the woman, which proved the trigger for me getting involved.

"Actually," quoth I, "I was. But don't mind me, you go on ahead..."

I was really good, honest, and tried not to let the 'don't mind me' sound very sarcastic.

Anyway, that really got my adversary's back up, but a third clerk, evidently sensing a storm brewing, stepped into the breach and opened up a third till just for me.

But man, was the queue-jumping woman not happy: she was chuntering away at the poor sales assistant who'd initially hesitated at serving her, and she was avowedly not looking in my direction at all.

Tired now. Work tomorrow. Blech.
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In just about any given situation, you can usually rely on me to sequester myself into the metaphorical corner of the room, trying to avoid intruding on any person(s) present. It's a pretty much universal rule that I've lived by for just about as long as I can remember.

UNLESS you've got a piano...

Read more... )
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As compensation for the truncated morning excursion, Mali and I walked out to the marina yesterday evening. We don't normally head out that far, and we got back pretty late, but 'twas a good stroll.

I'd seen at the weekend that the right hand side of the marina had been redeveloped, but the crowds were so thick at the time it had been impossible to see what was new ('new', here is a relative term, and should be read as 'new to me'). The walkways have blue underfoot LEDs to light the way, and although last time we were up there I had to carry Mali across the lock gates, this time he was perfectly happy to pad across, leading the way.

In other news, I've swapped Castle Fox's net connection back to the old router. I'm not wholly convinced that things have improved, particularly, and the whole reason that I bought the second router was that I thought the original one was subfunctional. It all rather points to problems with the line. *sigh*
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Hull's been hosting its Freedom Festival across the weekend, timed I think to coincide with the start of the Round the World Clipper Race that started here this time around.

Anyway, today saw P and I wend our way up to Hull Marina to see The Red Arrows perform a display that must've lasted at least 40 minutes. Very impressive flying, and some of the moves were, frankly, terrifying. So that was well worth seeing.

We then ambled down from the Marina to Queens Gardens to listen to some live music over lunch, and then headed back up to the river to watch the Clippers set off on their round the world race - due back in July 2010. Ten ships in full sail along the Humber was an impressive sight - our ship is Hull and Humber, but the Jamaicans won the prize for best name with Lightning Bolt.

I think I've managed to restore access to gMail: as [personal profile] tikiberry commented, although Google's initial notice said I'd been ToS'd, further investigation eventually unearthed an explanation that the account had been locked because of 'suspicious activity', and they insisted I change my password. So, password changed. Hmm.
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The Register alerted me to the fact that the Windows 7 preview download would be closing on the 15th of August, so I thought I should avail myself of the opportunity to install Windows 7 for free whilst it lasted.

Thus scarlett's hard disk got wiped last night, removing 64-bit Fedora 11 and installing Windows 7 (yes, I could double, or even triple boot, but I do write software for Windows for a living, and I rather suspect that it will behoove me to become acquainted with The Brave New World of 7 sooner rather than later).

Early impressions are mixed: that it runs on an Atom processor with just 1Gb of RAM is kinda impressive. It's slow to boot, when it boots - this morning I just got presented with a mouse on a black screen, but no login prompt or nuffink. So I rebooted (Microsoft have evidently taken pains to ensure that Windows users feel right at home ;-P), this time to discover that the sound card driver had failed to load. Fortunately, 7 pops up its 'Action Centre' warning dialogue thingy, which attempts to fix the problem like some Brave Little Toaster*.

Action Centre failed to cure the sound defect (which is weird, because it had been working last night). So I rebooted again, but to no avail. Anyway, I'm going to give it a chance, but I may revert to Linux yet.

I didn't have time to fully investigate the cause of the sound issues (or lack thereof - sound, that is, not issues, of which there was a manifest instance, obviously), because I'd been out walking Mali.

Well, I say I was out walking Mali, but I have my doubts, since it seemed very much like I was out with my Fully Autonomous Organic Discarded Chocolate Detection System: honestly, the merest hint of a Twix wrapper, and that hound wolfs it up...

The ride in to work was sticky. Not about my person, I hasten to add. No. The stickiness is, I assume, a side-effect of living amongst these leafy, tree-lined avenues: it must be the pollen that's coating the tarmac with some kind of tacky residue. The bike tyres sound as though they're rolling across S(p)ellotape™, and it makes for some interesting handling at times.

* a reference I know only from Buffy, where Xander's watching Willow dance at the Bronze, presumably post-Oz-breakup (which puts it in S4)


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