Well, wandering around attempting to fix internet issues this evening (I was steered, I might add, by English computer guru courtesy of this Skype business I've finally gotten connected to - people who know me, add me, I do enjoy bellowing into the corner of my laptop where the microphone is buried, and having a good ol' natter). Anyhoo, an error message came up at one point, clearly something that some Microsoft geek enjoyed creating in a bored hour, and I really rather liked it so thought would share with the globe at large:
Through a series of highly sophisticated and complex algorithms, this system has determined that you are not presently authorized to use this system function. It could be that you simply mistyped a password, or, it could be that you are some sort of interplanetary alien-being that has no hands and, thus, cannot type. If I were a gambler, I would bet that a cat (an orange tabby named Sierra or Harley) somehow jumped onto your keyboard and forgot some of the more important pointers from those typing lessons you paid for. Based on the actual error encountered, I would guess that the feline in question simply forgot to place one or both paws on the appropriate home keys before starting. Then again, I suppose it could have been a keyboard error caused by some form of cosmic radiation; this would fit nicely with my interplanetary alien-being theory. If you think this might be the cause, perhaps you could create some sort of underground bunker to help shield yourself from it. I don't know that it will work, but, you will probably feel better if you try something.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Sunday, October 22, 2006
On Spaniards and Spaniels
Technically, I have very little to say on the subject of Spaniels, but sure I can produce something in order that the nice-sounding title is justified.
My absence has been due to ambling down through France and Spain, finally being deposited in a remote hideaway an hour's drive from Malaga. (A ghastly city if ever there was - claims that the historic centre is 'beautiful' are made somewhat redundant, I feel, by the miniature size of this historic centre in comparison to the rest of the tower-block hell). Courtesy of a few bargains at the local Carrefour (about three hours away), I have enough food to feed a small country for a good few years, and having unpacked my clothes also have tshirts and jumpers enough to dress most of Asia. In addition to this excess, I have God knows how many TV channels (despite the endless possibilities of satellite, I'm still just watching good ol' ITV, providing me with the inevitably grim final grand prix of the season), three terraces, and a substantial (and varied) selection of my books. In other words, I don't need to leave this spot for the forseeable future: just as well, as the roads are frankly terrifying and I'm not wild about driving along them.
Oh - to drag spaniels into it, I'm living next door to eight dogs, five cats, three horses, and their lovely English owners who are also my landlords and creators of the nest in which I find myself. I find in the few emails I've sent I have resorted overwhelmingly to the term 'lovely' to describe everything, but there is no word more apt, I'm afraid. It just is.
In my limited experience of Spaniards so far, they are a fairly miserable bunch who talk with outlandish accents (very different to those of Argentines and Peruvians anyway) and have an endless capacity to loathe the English. Well, can hardly blame them for that, but I wish they'd understand I loathe most of the English too.
Being an efficient sort of soul, I've tracked down the 'local' (hour away) rowing club - after discovering that they row on the sea and have a tendency to be out and about at 9am, my thoughts ambled along different lines and I'm thinking of launching myself firmly in the sailing direction. Many happy memories of charging about in boats as a whippersnapper, and feel I should get back into that. Particularly since my brother is currently intent on building his own boat (we're talking 28ft beast here, not the next Bootle Bumtrinket). (If you haven't read/watched, 'My Family and Other Animals', you should first feel ashamed and then dash off for a copy).
Well, expect more regular postings - I know I keep promising this and never manage to maintain posts, but honestly, I've remarkably little else to do here so may as well update you all, if only on the weather forecast (sunny and bikini hot).
(There is meant to be a photo of me on here illustrating the suitably idle life I have planned for myself. If it hasn't appeared, ah well, next time).
My absence has been due to ambling down through France and Spain, finally being deposited in a remote hideaway an hour's drive from Malaga. (A ghastly city if ever there was - claims that the historic centre is 'beautiful' are made somewhat redundant, I feel, by the miniature size of this historic centre in comparison to the rest of the tower-block hell). Courtesy of a few bargains at the local Carrefour (about three hours away), I have enough food to feed a small country for a good few years, and having unpacked my clothes also have tshirts and jumpers enough to dress most of Asia. In addition to this excess, I have God knows how many TV channels (despite the endless possibilities of satellite, I'm still just watching good ol' ITV, providing me with the inevitably grim final grand prix of the season), three terraces, and a substantial (and varied) selection of my books. In other words, I don't need to leave this spot for the forseeable future: just as well, as the roads are frankly terrifying and I'm not wild about driving along them.
Oh - to drag spaniels into it, I'm living next door to eight dogs, five cats, three horses, and their lovely English owners who are also my landlords and creators of the nest in which I find myself. I find in the few emails I've sent I have resorted overwhelmingly to the term 'lovely' to describe everything, but there is no word more apt, I'm afraid. It just is.
In my limited experience of Spaniards so far, they are a fairly miserable bunch who talk with outlandish accents (very different to those of Argentines and Peruvians anyway) and have an endless capacity to loathe the English. Well, can hardly blame them for that, but I wish they'd understand I loathe most of the English too.
Being an efficient sort of soul, I've tracked down the 'local' (hour away) rowing club - after discovering that they row on the sea and have a tendency to be out and about at 9am, my thoughts ambled along different lines and I'm thinking of launching myself firmly in the sailing direction. Many happy memories of charging about in boats as a whippersnapper, and feel I should get back into that. Particularly since my brother is currently intent on building his own boat (we're talking 28ft beast here, not the next Bootle Bumtrinket). (If you haven't read/watched, 'My Family and Other Animals', you should first feel ashamed and then dash off for a copy).
Well, expect more regular postings - I know I keep promising this and never manage to maintain posts, but honestly, I've remarkably little else to do here so may as well update you all, if only on the weather forecast (sunny and bikini hot).
(There is meant to be a photo of me on here illustrating the suitably idle life I have planned for myself. If it hasn't appeared, ah well, next time).
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