There’s something comforting about an open fire.
Monthly Archives: November 2017
Jesus
A moment
According to Wikipedia, a moment lasts around 90 seconds. Microsoft, on the other hand, has an entirely different definition. Around 20 minutes.
I’ve used Libre Office for several years at home, Open Office for years before that. The former comes with Ubuntu and other Linux distributions. It’s free and it’s very capable.
However, an offer via work led me to purchase Microsoft’s offering for only a tenner. While this remains much more expensive than Libre Office, I was tempted by the price.
Unfortunately, it didn’t actually take a moment to install.
I think that in a bit may have been more appropriate a message during installation.
Boots
I have purchased some steel toecap boots. Because a man needs ten toes.
Toes
I’ve come to realise that toes are underrated. After damaging one of mine with a large axe yesterday, I’ve found walking to be a difficult undertaking.
Our plans for today have been modified to prevent further damage.
Wylam
Darlington
Why do people:
a) decide to end their lives on a railway line
b) walk across or otherwise mess about on a railway line
On arrival at Darlington station, passengers on my train were informed that there had been a fatality on the line, so the train would remain at the platform for at least an hour.
Which is pretty inconsiderate of the suicidal and/or foolish person. This has happened to me god knows how many times over the years, but never when I’m not in a hurry to get home.
Learning from past experience (the last time this happened, my train was delayed two and a half hours just outside Peterborough station), I left the train and found a pub.
It’s not the nicest of pubs, but Guinness is only £2.40 a pint.
Several other people seem to have had the same idea. I guess a suicide is good for business.
Platform 12b
I may have missed my train. I waited at the designated platform. And then, at the correct time, the train arrived.
Or, rather, it left. From the next platform.
The Angel Inn
The Angel Inn, in Leeds, always reminds me of an old mate, with whom I lost touch a few years ago.
He was, probably still is, a nice bloke. The Pub is a nice pub. Well, it’s a Sam Smith’s pub, so nice, fishless beer is always plentiful. With a gap between trains, I called in for a pint of stout (a mere £2.30). Then had a second.
While I could have easily stayed longer, my only mate in Leeds is in Croydon right now, so a return to the station was in order. Via the Head of Steam.
Where a man brought flowers to me.
Returning to tbe Angel Inn, I should mention that it’s in a cool location.
I should also mention that the flowers were a form of advertising. I may have thanked the man for bringing flowers for me. He may also have said that I he did so because I appeared to be ‘sad and alone’.