| Picture perfect |
[Jan. 13th, 2003|11:28 am] |
| [ | Feeling |
| | calm | ] |
| [ | Reading |
| | Ron Pollard, Odds and Sods | ] |
Success is pretty sweet when it comes after a run of near misses. For a while, we've been trying to get this live but have been dogged by a few techy glitches:
www.royalmail.com/smilers
All is well now :o) It's a pretty nifty new product that lets you put your own photo on postage stamps (sort of). You get a sheet of the stamps and they make a great gift.
In other news, the cold has done for both of our cars so that blew a hole in the weekend... nothing we could do would sort them out. It left me having to get a bus the several miles across to Heston on Sunday where I was due to take some photos for an upcoming Lib Dem leaflet. I'm not a great fan of buses - I think it's a trust thing, I just don't believe they'll be anywhere near where they say they'll be, when they say they'll be. They're too unreliable to depend on and too likely to be full of rowdy teenagers (that's not me being old and boring, I disliked them for the same reason when I was teenager myself). Took me about an hour to get there, and then maybe five minutes to get the pictures. Couldn't face the bus ride back so I walked instead, stopping off at a Burger King on the way (which I guess made it a zero-sum walk: exercise = good, junk food = bad). It was a lovely cold, crisp day with lots of people around and the sun didn't set until the very end - wish I'd walked there too, but there just wasn't time. |
|
|
| And... update |
[Jan. 13th, 2003|02:46 pm] |
| [ | Feeling |
| | pleased | ] |
| [ | Reading |
| | Lots of Net stuff about Slavomir Rawicz, a hero of mine. | ] |
Lisa, bless her, has managed to get the Spitfire going. No life in the Rover though. Still, we're halfway there. |
|
|
| Gravity strikes |
[Jan. 13th, 2003|03:24 pm] |
Something metal fell out of the ceiling a moment ago. Fortunately, no-one was seated below it.
We have something not unlike moles in the office today, however instead of leaving small piles of dirt in a line across the carpet they are knocking out ceiling tiles, making electric drill and screwdriver noises, and dropping angle brackets. I don't know what they're doing up there because you never see anyone, you just turn round and there's another mysterious black hole opened up in the ceiling, with wires dimly visible through.
Presumably there's some kind of workmens' access between the ceiling of this storey and the floor of the one above (unless we have semi-evolved rats who've reached the tool-using stage of civilisation, which wouldn't surprise me). It's an odd thought. Floors is floors and roofs is roofs and the idea that there's a whole different system of moving around the building sandwiched between them is rather strange.
What sort of people might inhabit this netherworld? Why do we never see them? Should we leave food out for them? And what are they going to drop on our heads next? |
|
|
| If adverts had to tell the truth... |
[Jan. 13th, 2003|04:08 pm] |
That's the latest theme on www.b3ta.com, where PhotoShop whizzes diddle with photos.
Here's some crackers:
... and finally ...
|
|
|