There is not a lot new here except that my hard drive is worrying me and I finally scored a photocopy of my cross-stitch chart. The hours of the copy shop are strange and eldritch. They still close at lunch on Wednesday.
"Work" hasn't been at all bad lately, most of the time I am being left at the desk while the guys get on and do some archaeological stuff. This is very technical language. ONL can stop moaning about transport, the line is meant to be re-opening this month
[The thing fell into the sea which is not unsurprising - very unsurprising. The Victorians built the original on iron columns over the actual sea (at the bottom of the cliff) but it turns out they were pretty solid with the tunnel. In the 20s there was some "land reclaiming" going on. They did something with the tunnel (and didn't leave us any notes but they did leave a consistent standard of structural integrity -- very scarily unsafe when the surveyors found out) and made proper-ground (yeah) by dumping everything under the tracks until it supported the rail bed. The whole thing got extended outward (obviously, somebody was horrified) some time after that so there was actually some distance beyond the tracks (presumably land reclaiming and concrete) and a nice little sea wall. This year: big storm, no more wall, no more anything under the track (except a big watery hole). Track broke, engineers horrified, archives raided for victorian plans (good) and 20s plans (never happened) so they stuck a one-year estimated repair time. And then went way before schedule - [probably the first time southern rail has been on-time for the last decade *stabby*]
... and now ONL can stop his martyr thing and shut up about how many replacement bus services and how traumatising it is waiting at [blank international] for a train to [blank on the sea] and then on a bus to [here]. One of my less-physically-able colleagues is going to catch his first aeroplane to visit folks in Australia. He's 80 and can't walk more than 25yds before he starts panting. I suggested making his suitcase more distinctive -- he says he doesn't need that, he's got a great case from the 1950s and it is tartan with leather strapping. Distinctive.
That's as exciting as things get.
Me and ONL were trying to find things that needed checking/warning. Mummyfrog has now reminded me that I need to warn him about in-flight snacks and in luggage snacks - they really don't like them at the border line.
My colleague and I are getting on better sans ONL (until 12:10 and a martyred look - he commutes from London) and we are agog with new technology. He showed me his tablet and told me which pubs now have wi-fi. At the [one near the football ground] it is sponsored by Guinness who have installed their own branded box. We share our frustration with ONLs attitude to modern technology - I Can Do That Perfectly Well With My Card Index / We Have A Perfectly Good [item] / We've Never Needed One Before / We're Not Paying For That... if you don't know ONL's age, you can do a Perfectly Good guess. I want to kill the card index and subscriber book... three times a year (down from quarterly for paper costs and a falling/dying readership). We also wish ONL was open to the idea of a decent modern cd-based sound system (like my colleague has tried to provide - he likes sound systems) over the massive tape deck/amplifier setup - front on about 9" by 16" and still got capacitors in it - big ones.
He really wants one that doesn't break and eat up the audio-guide commentary tapes. After the old old machine ate one of ONL's tapes, my colleague had to do transplant surgery to recover ONL's narrative tape - crack a "new" one open and then remove the tape from the spindles, insert the tape from the broken one, hook it around the working bits and then superglue/screw the thing together and hope. I think the tape had broken as well and he had to patch it back together too. In another life, my colleague was a dj some time in the 70s/80s and has shown me pictures of him in his "razzle dazzle" sequined jacket with matching cummerbund in a tiki-styled basement bar in a small seaside town.
p.p.s German visitors really dig my accent. This made me supernaturally happy all day.
p.p.p.s I really need an internetable name for my colleague. How does The King (his nom-de-disk-spinning) sound? Or maybe Elvis?