After several failed attempts to get my sick old iPod into disk mode so I can reinstall software, I resorted to the tip I’d read on the Internet. After throwing it at the sofa a couple of times, it burst back into life. The problem seems to be a sticking hard drive mechanism. I’m expecting it to fail again soon but, if it does, I might just replace the old drive with an SSD one.
I feel the need to express my dissatisfaction with public transport this morning. After missing the 07:37 X1 because it left at 07:35, I took my reserve route to work. Or, rather, I’m still taking it. A new timetable for the number 73 from Concord came into effect today. This should be a good thing for me, since it reduces the gap between buses. Unfortunately, though, the 08:19 number 73 hasn’t actually arrived. So I’m now on a W6 to Washington town centre, where I should catch the 08:59 number 8.
While waiting pointlessly at the bus stop I noticed that the number 73 service is provided by Gateshead Central Taxis. One can’t help but wonder why a cab company is attempting to run a bus service. I’m assuming it’s on its way.
Eels at the Sage, last night, practically on our doorstep. A chilled, relaxed set perfectly suited the venue. While I usually prefer a loud Eels gig, last night’s was one of the best.
And it was nice to have a family kind of evening; it’s something we used to do pretty often, but it’s becoming harder for everyone to be in the same place at the same time. Still, we did manage to make loose arrangements for a follow-up.
We went for a drive up the coast today – because my second in command wanted to try Daisy II on the A1. We’d aimed for Seahouses, but stopped off at Bamburgh too since it was just along the road.
It brought back memories of Ronnie Maddison’s shoes. Which lie buried somewhere in the sand dunes at Bamburgh (I was ten years old and I didn’t do it).
‘Tis sunny in Sunderland. And not windy at all. I must stress that I’m here only because I needed to catch a bank.
I needed to catch a bank because I needed to withdraw a silly amount of cash. Because my second in command’s experiment with public transport hasn’t gone very well at all. And a vehicle must be purchased.
I should possibly say that:
– my in command made a real effort to embrace public transport
– A likely new job in Northumberland is also a factor, since the Metro doesn’t run to Hexham
– bikes aren’t allowed on public transport
– taxis home from nights out aren’t cheap
I do appreciate the seriousness of Tourette’s, and know that it must be an awful condition for anyone affected. But when a man stands at my bus stop, randomly shouting fuck off in a Mr Punch kind of voice, it’s quite difficult to retain one’s composure.
And, of course, he had to get on my bus.