Music outage

For a few minutes last night I had the horrors.

Apart from my bedside alarm radio, my only source of music for the next week is my juke box and portable speakers, and I thought for a few minutes that I'd managed to fry it.

I decided to charge it up fully, but didn't pay any attention to the adapter I was using (the one I had used to save the batteries on the speakers), and plugged it in.

Two hours later, not only had it not charged up, but the damn thing was as dead as the proverbial dodo. After a couple of minutes' blind panic (I can't afford to replace it just now), I dug out the correct charger and plugged that in. Oh, the relief when it all lit up.

I think it's OK again, now, but clearly just having a 9v adapter with the correct-sized charging jack isn't enough for my Archos.

Mind you, it is French.

Music outage

For a few minutes last night I had the horrors.

Apart from my bedside alarm radio, my only source of music for the next week is my juke box and portable speakers, and I thought for a few minutes that I'd managed to fry it.

I decided to charge it up fully, but didn't pay any attention to the adapter I was using (the one I had used to save the batteries on the speakers), and plugged it in.

Two hours later, not only had it not charged up, but the damn thing was as dead as the proverbial dodo. After a couple of minutes' blind panic (I can't afford to replace it just now), I dug out the correct charger and plugged that in. Oh, the relief when it all lit up.

I think it's OK again, now, but clearly just having a 9v adapter with the correct-sized charging jack isn't enough for my Archos.

Mind you, it is French.

Sing those melancholy blues, man.

I can't see it from the window, but the noise outside suggests that a Blue Whale has washed up on Victoria Street, and is calling for its mate.

It is a lonely, melancholy sound, and it echoes between the buildings and through the traffic.

It would be a sight to see, this Blue Whale, navigating the lights on Parliament Square, and making its way stately and serenely north, towards Trafalgar Square. It would head ultimately, I think, for the Telecom Tower and its revolving platform, which would give it a panoramic view over much of London, from which it could espy its mate.

Of course, Blue Whales are not small things, but nevertheless the canyons formed by the taller buildings in the City itself might yet mask its location. But then, the inevitable crowds and traffic backlogs would help our lonely beau identify his target from his tower-top perch.

But it's gone quiet now, and only the sound of regular traffic is audible through the glass. Maybe these whales have found each other, and do not need to rendezvous atop the Telecom Tower.

Probably just as well. It's close to rush hour.

Sing those melancholy blues, man.

I can't see it from the window, but the noise outside suggests that a Blue Whale has washed up on Victoria Street, and is calling for its mate.

It is a lonely, melancholy sound, and it echoes between the buildings and through the traffic.

It would be a sight to see, this Blue Whale, navigating the lights on Parliament Square, and making its way stately and serenely north, towards Trafalgar Square. It would head ultimately, I think, for the Telecom Tower and its revolving platform, which would give it a panoramic view over much of London, from which it could espy its mate.

Of course, Blue Whales are not small things, but nevertheless the canyons formed by the taller buildings in the City itself might yet mask its location. But then, the inevitable crowds and traffic backlogs would help our lonely beau identify his target from his tower-top perch.

But it's gone quiet now, and only the sound of regular traffic is audible through the glass. Maybe these whales have found each other, and do not need to rendezvous atop the Telecom Tower.

Probably just as well. It's close to rush hour.

Oh, the chill.

I may have erred.

In the packing frenzy on Saturday, and clothes-wise, Sunday, just about everything was bundled into plastic sacks and taken up to the new place. This is the patented Ratboy technique, and it's not one I necessarily subscribe to, but for a quiet life..

The upshot is that I have one thin sweatshirt with me, and it is not warm enough by half. Up in the bags, there are at least three others, somewhat thicker and warmer, not to mention any number of (admittedly unfashionable) knitted sweaters that were a source of great hilarity to Ratty himself. Had I stood my ground, I should have been a bit warmer right now.

Bugger.

Oh, the chill.

I may have erred.

In the packing frenzy on Saturday, and clothes-wise, Sunday, just about everything was bundled into plastic sacks and taken up to the new place. This is the patented Ratboy technique, and it's not one I necessarily subscribe to, but for a quiet life..

The upshot is that I have one thin sweatshirt with me, and it is not warm enough by half. Up in the bags, there are at least three others, somewhat thicker and warmer, not to mention any number of (admittedly unfashionable) knitted sweaters that were a source of great hilarity to Ratty himself. Had I stood my ground, I should have been a bit warmer right now.

Bugger.