2016 — 31 May: Tuesday
Following yesterday's ruminations1 it's even quieter in here (with the Synology NAS drives at the far end of the room) though the motorway is back to its normal state. The NUC is also back where it "belongs", hard-wired directly to the A/V stack. Skylark awaits only the finding of a shorter network cable — much of yesterday's painstaking untangling involved a more sensible disposition of two 8-port Netgear switches and some comprehensive reallocation and rewiring of their devices.
Time once again...
... for breakfast. And more music. Then some adventure-plotting. A wary eye on the weather. And one more Wodehouse for the time being:
"What are the chances of a cobra biting Harold, Jeeves?"
"Slight, I should imagine, sir. And in such an event, knowing the boy as intimately as I do, my anxiety would be entirely for the snake."
I see super-brain Hawking...
... has yet to be exposed to Mr Dilbert's insights into the way Trump makes his appeal direct to the lizard brain! (Link.)
The fall of Europe?
This account of a UNESCO General Conference (in the 1950s, I assume) reflects behaviour that has changed little over the intervening years:
Meetings usually start late. There is no effective time limit on speeches. Delegates are frequently told that time is short and the list of speakers long ... All this usually has little effect ... Meanwhile, delegates are moving in and out continually, going for coffee, to telephone, to do business in the corridors or simply to stretch their legs. It is a swirling parade of important people, or of people who were once important, or of people who think they are important.
One can always find...
... useful stuff in the weekly Ubuntu newsletter that lends itself to local, erm, adaptation. This, for example, on sharing folders with a Raspberry Pi over wifi — or, in my case, with my wired NUC running Kodi. (Link.)
One can eventually find...
... one's way to and from one's chum2 on Glayshers Hill, too. But remind me not to request "short and fast" next time as the benighted GPS box in the Mazda even tried to take me across a f(j)ord marked "unsuitable for vehicles". I returned via Petersfield and am very glad to have dodged a crowded looking motorway. In rain, too, most of the way. Car's nice and clean!
Question is: what's the parcel that was too big for my letterbox?
I've been offered...
... a one- or two-bedroom luxury retirement apartment "in the heart of Romsey". A snip at £270,000, too. How unwell someone knows me. It's also been suggested that I'm a lot more susceptible to non-conscious manipulation than I'm aware of. Given the vast range of things I'm completely unaware of (case in point, the two books borrowed from Ian that were still out in the car) I concede the possibility. (Proof? I'm a little dubious!)