… but the taking part, that matters.
That’s right, isn’t it?
Misc
Wireless
Well, Summer seems to have arrived properly now, which means the grass needs to be cut far more regularly.
I hate gardening in general, so will only do the bare minimum to keep it looking tidy.
However, that bare minimum suddenly became a lot easier, last year, when I decided to get a petrol driven lawnmower. Not having to drag extension leads around the garden and not having to worry about accidentally running over the cord and cutting it (which I have done several times, in the past), makes the chore of mowing the lawn, that bit more agreeable.
In fact, so impressed was I with this (should have got one years ago), that I also went out and bought a cordless strimmer and a cordless hedge trimmer, both of which have proved to be a boon.
Now, if I can just find a cordless, dog-proof, garden broom…
Vroom vroom
This is a picture of my bike, taken earlier today.
Just after we returned from the nail-biting ordeal that is the annual MOT.
I’m pleased to say that she passed with flying colours – although we did pick up an advisory warning for the tread on the front tyre being close to the mark.
Which it was, so I have asked them to order a nice new one.
I was a little bit apprehensive about the exhausts though, as I fitted new, louder ones a little while back.
Much louder.
I need not have worried: “She sounds nice” said the MOT inspector.
Indeed she does.
Yuk.
Today, I have been to our head office in Reading.
For meetings, of course.
They don’t have teabags and a well stocked milk fridge there though.
Instead they have these tea & coffee machines.
Vended tea is the work of Satan and I avoid it at all costs.
Vended coffee isn’t much better… because they use powdered milk.
And so, black coffee becomes my alternate hot beverage.
To be fair, the coffee out of this machine is much better than others I’ve tasted.
But it’s still bloody horrible.
Ring ring
A while back, I wrote about the need for a new mobile phone and my trials and tribulations over what to get and which network to switch to.
Well, here is what I plumped for: the Sony XP1 Ultra. Sticking with my preferred brand. It has a six-inch display; Android Dairy Milk Crunch (or whatever the latest version is called); fast processor(s) and the all-important camera. Well, two cameras – like most phones today, it has a camera on the front for taking selfies. Not that I have ever taken a selfie, but, you never know.
I got it for a bargain price too, thanks to Mrs M having a voucher for sixty quid off!
And – following advice from a couple of you – I opted for giffgaff as my network provider. Quick and easy to set up, and pretty cheap.
So far, I am most pleased with it.
Crap Shots
I’m watching an action series on Sky at the moment, called Strike Back. It’s based on the books written by ex-SAS soldier, Chris Ryan. The books – in turn – are based upon his own exploits.
Obviously, with anything like this, there is always a bit of ‘poetic licence’ thrown in to spice it up a bit. Especially when it is “based” upon real events.
I don’t really have a problem with this: it’d be pretty dull watching, otherwise. Because a soldiers life is dull… on the whole. Much of it is spent cleaning boots.
But there is one thing in this sort of programme that often annoys me; something that they always give a little too much poetic licence to. And it’s not just in Strike Back… they all do it!
Mission Impossible; James Bond; 24; Die Hard, Jason Bourne, etc, etc.
They all make the bad guys out to be really bad shots.
Bad guys – and I suppose I’m talking about the henchmen here – nearly always have machine guns, And yet, they still miss!
When you are spraying bullets out of an automatic weapon, at one man running across an office floor, it is incredibly difficult to miss him and yet still shoot every single pane of glass and piece of office equipment around him to smithereens.
And, have you noticed how, if the good guy is running across a field or a beach, the bad guy will seemingly aim their machine gun just behind him, at his feet; missing him completely but throwing up puffs of dirt or sand six inches from his heels as he runs, until he eventually reaches some cover.
And Bad Guy Bullets™ won’t penetrate a car door or an upturned table that is protecting the good guy. Even though they mostly would in real life.
Good guys – of course – are much better shots and can generally kill or disable their much-more-heavily-armed-foe, with cunning and guile… and the very last bullet in the magazine of their Glock 19.
If I were a henchman and they gave me a machine gun, I’d know it was time to look for a new job.
Get Smart
… was a rather excellent American spy spoof series in the late 1960s.
But that’s not what the title of this post refers to.
Oh no: Agent 86 and his frolics with KAOS will have to wait for another day.
No, yesterday we had our aging gas and electricity meters replaced with brand new, sexy smart meters.
This is brilliant! I can now stand in my kitchen and literally watch my bill going up!
Of course, the idea is that you should “Keep Gaz and Leccy under control”.
Apparently.
But, if you’re cold, you turn the heating up. If you’re hungry, you put the grill on for some cheesy toast. If you’re thirsty, you put the kettle on for a nice cuppa.
It’s already under control.
I suppose one could always cut back to save a few pence: maybe only half-boil the kettle? Lukewarm tea, anyone?
As well as with gas and electricity though, smart meters are now being installed in the water sector. And some people are up in arms about it.
Many people see it as an attempt to increase their bills. Trust me, it’s really not.
Yes, some people will see an increase, whilst others will see a decrease. This is because you are only paying for the water that you actually use… which has to be a fairer system, surely?
Why should a little old lady living on her own, pay the same as the family of five next door, who are running a car wash service in their back garden?
Not preaching… just sayin’
Being smart: it’s the future.
Crapachino
I’ve mentioned it before but, I still cannot get my head around how important coffee is.
To some.
I just don’t understand what it means to some people to have a ‘proper’ cup of coffee.
Maybe that’s because, whilst I don’t mind the occasional cup of Joe – as our American cousins inexplicably call it – I am, in the main, a tea drinker.
I don’t want to pay extortionate prices for a skinny-flat-white-mocha-latte-cappucino (essentially, two spoons of Nescafe topped up with hot milk), when I can get a whole jar of Maxwell House for the same price.
But I seem to be in an ever-shrinking minority.
More and more coffee shops proliferate our high streets and they always seem busy: full of people holding huge, white, ceramic cups full of the dark brown liquid.
Trains and public areas are littered with cardboard cups, all bearing various logos from the well-known establishments.
At work, we have recently been getting visits from a mobile ‘proper’ coffee wagon. It pulls up outside a few times a day and beeps its horn. Within a few minutes, there is a line of people queueing up, to get their morning fix.
Honestly, I have seen some of them stand there for up to fifteen minutes, in freezing temperatures, just to get a cup of coffee.
Fifteen minutes!
I’m on my second cup of PG by then!