Don't believe everything you read on the net

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Went down to Reading today to give a talk for Microsoft. Being of sound mind I went onto the Travlodge web site (for it is they that will be providing me with a bed for the night) and got an AA provided route to their location.

Or did I?

Upon arrival I just followed the route as supplied. Which took me to a jet ski lake in the middle of nowhere. Not amusing. It turns out that the AA router just takes the postcode (which must cover an area around the size of Canada) and then finds the place in it which is furthest from the point you want to be.

When I finally arrived at my location, around an hour late and somewhat upset, I asked the receptionist if anyone had ever mentioned that the route to chez Travelodge, as downloaded from their web site was, shall we say, a little cuckoo. She groaned and shook her head. "It is wrong", she admitted, "But there is nothing we can do about it".

Apparently Head Office, which runs the web site and is probably noting a downward trend in arrivals at this particular lodge and may even be preparing a crack team of accountants (can you have such a thing? he wondered) to go in and fire all the staff, has been alerted but has not done anything about the problem. Good for them.

A word of warning to the wise from an idiot. Do not trust the AA directions. (actually, as I remember I've had problems with them before). Use the RAC or (dare I suggest such a thing) a paper map.

Heading For Darwin

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As I stood in a high wind balanced on a stool directing the pressure washer jet over my head onto the roof of the conservatory this afternoon I reflected that this was just the kind of thing that people do before making an appearence in the celebrated Darwin awards, which are usually awarded postumously to people who prove that Darwin was right by doing stupid things which subsequently kill them.

As it happens I was lucky, and nothing particularly bad happened. I had taken the precuation of not drinking fifteen pints of Bud before starting out (which most winners usually do). The major irritation was that pesky wind, which sent clouds of water back over me in a most unfortunate way, so I did get very wet. But now the roof of the conservatory is nice and clean.

The Force is Strong in This One

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A long time ago in a Galaxy Far Away (tm) a bloke called George made a nice little film. It was self contained, had special effects that were way ahead of its time and a really good orchestral score. And he kept all the merchandising rights. The film was a big, big, big success. And so George set about making the enterprise into a franchise, making out like it was always meant to be that way. And like a kid caught out on a big lie, he made bigger and bolder lies to try and cover himself.

George: "This is really one of nine films you know"
Audience: "No way"
George: "Way. And you know Luke's love interest?"
Audience: "Yeah, that Princess with the funny hair"
George: "She's really his sister."
Audience: "No way. You'll be telling us next that Darth is Luke's dad.."
George: "Hmm..... Do you like teddy bears?"

..and so on. Actually George did two clever things after Star Wars 1 (or is it 4), sell a lot of plastic toys and make the thing into a soap opera. And so now we come to "Star Wars 3, The Revenge of the Sith". My expectations were pretty low. And they were confounded quite a bit. The film was great (although it did make the person behind me burst into tears at the end).

The acting was a bit wooden and there was a whole lot too much going on. All the poignant bits between Annakin and his wife were played out to a background of zillions of spaceships going aimlessly back and forth, like a love scene being played out in front of the M1 motorway. Even the final death bed scene of the princess (hope I'm not giving too much away here folks) had a pointless flashing blue light in the background. Why a flashing light? And why blue?

All the fight scenes were huge, as if George had watched the Lord of the Rings and said to the production team "I want all three episodes worth in one two minute sequence". But the film was still good. And considering the origins of the story, it actually held together pretty well.

If nothing else the film proves that the shopping centres in the UK that have banned people wearing hooded sweatshirts are definitely on to something. At the beginning of the film Annakin is hoodless and happy, trading quips with his jedi master as he battles evil. By the end he is deeply hooded, just like his nasty boss. And his eyes light up too, which is always a bad thing.

In short, if you want an uplifting experience with snappy dialogue and a light romantic nature, then don't go and see this film. If you want to see how it all ends/starts then it is definitely worth a trip.

Danish Classes

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Met up with a bunch of folk from Denmark today. They had come to Hull to find out what I've been doing with Microsoft Class Server, a nifty program which drives parts of our C# Programming course. I gave them a run through of the system, which seemed to go OK, and they were kind enough to present me with a nice thermal jug from Stelton. Great for keeping "proper coffee" warm. Thanks folks, much appreciated.

As a gesture of appreciation I refrained from telling them the "Orange for a Head" joke. Well, it seemed the right and proper thing to do...

A Vision of Europe

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Watched the Eurovision contest today. I couldn't tell the difference between the UK song and the one that won, but apparently most people around europe could. It occurs to me that the only way we can win now is if the UK becomes "un-united" and every region of the country enters their own song. Yorkshire could sing "On Ilkley Moor By Tat" and so on (I once heard that played on a train hooter by a particulary inventive driver as we came into Leeds station). The we all vote like mad for each other's entries...

Having said that, as a spectacle the event was huge success, the staging and the performances were wonderful. My favourite was the one with the angle grinders. Some director must have watched "Scrapheap Challenge", seen the show of sparks that you get when you cut through cast iron, and decided that they really should fit that into a song. Great stuff.

Radiating Disapproval

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Earlier this week I noticed that the radiator in the bathroom was not getting hot. This meant that when I got out of the shower the towel was not toasty warm. At my age this kind of thermal shock can be dangerous, so I thought I'd see what was wrong.

The radiator was mostly full of air. But I had answer, in the form of the special key which you can use to open the top and bleed the air out. (and I only took an hour to find it too - go me). The problem was that when I did the bleeding job (not swearing) not all the air would come out. Hmm. Strange. It was almost as if there was no water going in to the system. Now this is potentially dangerous. You can view the water in a heating system as the thing which cools down the boiler and stops it from bursting into flames/melting/exploding. All bad words.

So it was up into the loft to find out where the water was not coming from. The ball cock had got stuck. This means that no water was getting into the header tank, which consequently looked like all the reservoirs will look in 3 months if the weather man is to be believed. A quick waggle and a squirt of WD40 and everything was back to gurgling normality. I'm not sure if I should worry about where the water went in the first place......

Twenty Six Pence Worth of Problems

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Got home this evening to a less than happy household. The washing machine had finished its run and rather absent mindedly forgotten to remove the water from itself. Cue wet kitchen floor and much angst.

I thought it might be a wheeze to take a look in the pump filter. I was kind of hoping that something had stopped it from draining properly. I found three coins (and it wasn't even a fountain). A grand total of 26 pence. I guess someone (not me - I dream of having so much loose change) had left the cash in their pocket, from there it had made its way into the internals of the machine and bunged up the outlet. We did two washes and it seemed to work OK.

I've always had a problem with washing machines. Ages ago I bought one of the first computer controlled ones because it is a well known fact that "the mechanical controllers always go wrong". After two failed motors and a broken drum bearing I have revised this theory. I now buy the cheapest one I can get and then throw it away after a few years. This one was quite cheap, and for it the tip may be looming.....

One in the eye for Rob

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Went for an eye test today. Not before time. I've been meaning to go for a while, at my age the eyes are one of the many things which can go wrong with ones' self.

Only I would have an eye test on Friday 13th. At least I didn't go for laser surgery (I've done some research on this, and it turns out that they don't actually put lasers into your eyes - so it seems a bit pointless really).

Anyhoo, it was off down to Asda and into the chair:

"Can you read that chart over there on the wall?"
"What wall?"

I wanted to use my favourite gag:

"Have your eyes ever been checked?"
"No, they've always been blue"

- but the chap was more interested in giving me a proper eye test than exchanging old jokes. It turns out that my eyes have changed a bit, nay a lot. And that I now need varifocals. These are the ones that let you closely examine someones' nasal hair whilst appearing to look over their shoulder into the distance. I can't wait.

Apparently the difference between my long and short sight disabilities is so great that there was some discussion as to whether or not varifocals will work. I can imagine the scene behind the counter:

First Optician: "I'm not sure that this is a good idea"
Second Optitican: "Why not?"
First Optician: "Well, the power of the lenses. In the wrong hands they could...."
Second Optician: "Yes, I know all about that, only a man with unusally strong mental abilities could control them and use them as a force for good"
(looks over at me trying to read the numbers on my Smartphone...)
Second Optician: "..and I think we might just have found him."
Me: "Is that a three or a five?"

The new glasses arrive in a few weeks.