An update. Because I can...

At home in the Athenaeum Club we have two vacuum cleaners, an upright of venerable antiquity, and one of those small cylinder ant-eater affairs that is all drag and nozzle.

In their own way, each is quite a remarkable piece of equipment. The upright operates with two distinct, but entwined sounds (if sounds can be described as entwined, and if you heard this Hoover, you would say, yes, they can): it combines the noise of a poorly tuned jet engine labouring for thrust, with the death rattle of a lynched conman. The cylinder, by contrast, is much quieter in the motor department, but manages a quite remarkably emphysemic sucking noise. Despite these odd sounds, each machine in its way performs within acceptable limits¹, and between them they managed to swallow quite an impressive amount of dust and associated dust bunnies.

Now, I’m not one to cast nasturtiums², but I venture to say that until I advanced across the carpets of The Tower, with malice aforethought and humming vacuum cleaner, no-one had essayed anything similar for at least four years. It transpires that the carpet is blue, and that sneezing uncontrollably in the bedroom is not inevitable.

The stair well presented difficulties all its own. There are two steps that are both just too far from a power point to get the cleaner to with ease, be it from the plug at the top of the stairs, or the plug in the spare room, on the second landing. Since I couldn’t find an extension cable, I was forced to test the elasticity of the machines to the limit. It’s quite remarkable how far you can extend the nozzle of a Hoover if you are willing to abseil downstairs on it. Still, the job’s done now. Next time it should be relatively simpler; especially if I find an extension cable first.

I never did get to Finchley to waste money on fripperies, I really couldn’t be bothered once the great clean up was complete, though late on I did find time to alphabetise my CD collection. I no longer know where anything is without thinking about it. Still, it will fend off the senility for a week or two longer, I suppose.

I’m leaving the office shortly. The appearance on my PC last night of aurora, which refuses to deactivate despite me having found and removed the .exe file (together with a further 112 bits of spyware which Adaware had somehow missed), has persuaded me to get a nice new shiny copy of McAfee virus thingy. I shall install that last thing tonight, and let the battle rage during the wee small hours (and probably much of tomorrow while I’m at work).

If it wasn’t for the fact that viruses can be actively malicious, rather than just slowing the machine down, I’d almost be willing to suffer them. It seems sometimes that the various antiviral applications, firewalls, cookie eater and spyware zappers take up only marginally fewer resources than the things they protect you from. Still, if it’s going to cost me cash, I suppose I prefer to have at least a vague idea of where the pennies are going, rather than have my credit card and bank details neatly delivered to some dirtbag in cyberland.

Technology. How do we cope without it?


¹ You thought I was going to say parameters didn’t you? I nearly did.

² Clearly a lie, and not a little hypocritical given the regular state of my previous garret .

An update. Because I can...

At home in the Athenaeum Club we have two vacuum cleaners, an upright of venerable antiquity, and one of those small cylinder ant-eater affairs that is all drag and nozzle.

In their own way, each is quite a remarkable piece of equipment. The upright operates with two distinct, but entwined sounds (if sounds can be described as entwined, and if you heard this Hoover, you would say, yes, they can): it combines the noise of a poorly tuned jet engine labouring for thrust, with the death rattle of a lynched conman. The cylinder, by contrast, is much quieter in the motor department, but manages a quite remarkably emphysemic sucking noise. Despite these odd sounds, each machine in its way performs within acceptable limits¹, and between them they managed to swallow quite an impressive amount of dust and associated dust bunnies.

Now, I’m not one to cast nasturtiums², but I venture to say that until I advanced across the carpets of The Tower, with malice aforethought and humming vacuum cleaner, no-one had essayed anything similar for at least four years. It transpires that the carpet is blue, and that sneezing uncontrollably in the bedroom is not inevitable.

The stair well presented difficulties all its own. There are two steps that are both just too far from a power point to get the cleaner to with ease, be it from the plug at the top of the stairs, or the plug in the spare room, on the second landing. Since I couldn’t find an extension cable, I was forced to test the elasticity of the machines to the limit. It’s quite remarkable how far you can extend the nozzle of a Hoover if you are willing to abseil downstairs on it. Still, the job’s done now. Next time it should be relatively simpler; especially if I find an extension cable first.

I never did get to Finchley to waste money on fripperies, I really couldn’t be bothered once the great clean up was complete, though late on I did find time to alphabetise my CD collection. I no longer know where anything is without thinking about it. Still, it will fend off the senility for a week or two longer, I suppose.

I’m leaving the office shortly. The appearance on my PC last night of aurora, which refuses to deactivate despite me having found and removed the .exe file (together with a further 112 bits of spyware which Adaware had somehow missed), has persuaded me to get a nice new shiny copy of McAfee virus thingy. I shall install that last thing tonight, and let the battle rage during the wee small hours (and probably much of tomorrow while I’m at work).

If it wasn’t for the fact that viruses can be actively malicious, rather than just slowing the machine down, I’d almost be willing to suffer them. It seems sometimes that the various antiviral applications, firewalls, cookie eater and spyware zappers take up only marginally fewer resources than the things they protect you from. Still, if it’s going to cost me cash, I suppose I prefer to have at least a vague idea of where the pennies are going, rather than have my credit card and bank details neatly delivered to some dirtbag in cyberland.

Technology. How do we cope without it?


¹ You thought I was going to say parameters didn’t you? I nearly did.

² Clearly a lie, and not a little hypocritical given the regular state of my previous garret .