It’s been a disjointed patch this week ~ still no sign of a haircut on the horizon, and it is really starting to annoy me!
Thursday started with good intentions (This is the Road to Hell – Chris Rhea), and Bob and I went out to Fyshwick to buy the multifunction printer/scanner/fax/coffee maker that I had attempted to get on Wednesday afternoon, arriving as they locked the doors. Not a problem – I had contacted Aki to let her know that I would be tied up for an hour or whatever and hoped to catch up that afternoon. More Good Intentions.
As the designated techno-spouse, I then began to connect it and get it operational. Whilst not inherently difficult, it did mean establishing a wireless network and getting everyone to talk to each other. This took quite a bit of time! In a pique of frustration, I ended up turning off the automatic fax reception until I work out what I am doing wrong with that connection to prevent annoying data screeching when answering the voice line.
Installing the full version of the software on my computer took something like 8 hours!? Although I downloaded the diet version onto Bob’s in ten minutes or so. Needless to say, no playtime with Aki and no opportunity to get to the first night of the Vets Track at the AIS.
Anyway, now we can print, scan, fax and order coffee from wherever in the network our laptops may be. Unfortunately, it doesn’t do the coffee.
Friday is Customs Day, and as I said to Aki it is like brushing one’s teeth. Bob cycled down there, and put the bike in the car. Although Floriade is over, the protective fences are still up and we are locked out of our usual course. With the toilets now 1km away, I squeezed unobtrusively through the fence to the nearby block a 100m away. On my return, Nigel C sought to do the same, although unable to fit, a delegation gathered to remove the chain over the top of the rails. After this had happened, with Nigel out of sight, a highly officious STAR security guard marched up, shouting at we rag tag mob of runners about “breaking the law” and being “illegal”. Although we explained about Nigel going to the toilet, this resulted in him barking more Sergeant Major like grunts and locking the hole shut with locks designed to keep those inside interred indefinitely. With a sinister smirk on his face, he marched away to lay pray for his quarry.
On Nigel’s return, we gathered to instruct him to climb on the sub-station box over the top. No problem. We are shameless in our joint conduct of such a heinous crime. Sir!
Customs was good – slow legs meant a slow time despite feeling good, but I have no complaints. (5k in 24:14).
Thursday started with good intentions (This is the Road to Hell – Chris Rhea), and Bob and I went out to Fyshwick to buy the multifunction printer/scanner/fax/coffee maker that I had attempted to get on Wednesday afternoon, arriving as they locked the doors. Not a problem – I had contacted Aki to let her know that I would be tied up for an hour or whatever and hoped to catch up that afternoon. More Good Intentions.
As the designated techno-spouse, I then began to connect it and get it operational. Whilst not inherently difficult, it did mean establishing a wireless network and getting everyone to talk to each other. This took quite a bit of time! In a pique of frustration, I ended up turning off the automatic fax reception until I work out what I am doing wrong with that connection to prevent annoying data screeching when answering the voice line.
Installing the full version of the software on my computer took something like 8 hours!? Although I downloaded the diet version onto Bob’s in ten minutes or so. Needless to say, no playtime with Aki and no opportunity to get to the first night of the Vets Track at the AIS.
Anyway, now we can print, scan, fax and order coffee from wherever in the network our laptops may be. Unfortunately, it doesn’t do the coffee.
Friday is Customs Day, and as I said to Aki it is like brushing one’s teeth. Bob cycled down there, and put the bike in the car. Although Floriade is over, the protective fences are still up and we are locked out of our usual course. With the toilets now 1km away, I squeezed unobtrusively through the fence to the nearby block a 100m away. On my return, Nigel C sought to do the same, although unable to fit, a delegation gathered to remove the chain over the top of the rails. After this had happened, with Nigel out of sight, a highly officious STAR security guard marched up, shouting at we rag tag mob of runners about “breaking the law” and being “illegal”. Although we explained about Nigel going to the toilet, this resulted in him barking more Sergeant Major like grunts and locking the hole shut with locks designed to keep those inside interred indefinitely. With a sinister smirk on his face, he marched away to lay pray for his quarry.
On Nigel’s return, we gathered to instruct him to climb on the sub-station box over the top. No problem. We are shameless in our joint conduct of such a heinous crime. Sir!
Customs was good – slow legs meant a slow time despite feeling good, but I have no complaints. (5k in 24:14).
Just copied out your egg/potato recipe - it sounds delicious so can't wait to try it!
So that's what happened, I missed out on that? Fantastic! Go Nigel! I bet that story will get spread around, silly security guys.