|Bose speakers, c. 1870|
I also got three spam comments that day (hey, they may be spam, but they're still comments - I take what I can get) so I can only guess that for some strange reason a bot got interested (and then, very quickly, bored: hopefully terminally). Anyone have an idea how I can get rid of this blip from the statistics?
Still, it could have been worse. Like the return trip, for example. I crawled out from my grubby heap of blankets in the corner early Saturday morning, stumbled down to the bathroom and scrubbed my eyes and rinsed my mouth and ears with vodka (essential for personal hygiene, and doesn't smell as much as gin), and blearily headed off to the gare, pausing only occasionally en route for a glass of chardonnay to fight off the alsatians. Got there with twenty minutes to spare, enough time to appreciate the aromas of a Chignin Bergeron, especially as the dogs had shrunk to small poodles, with the occasional Jack Russell terrier.
Two hours and a decent nap later I was duly decanted at Valence TGV, to await the arrival - and, hopefully, the eventual departure - of TGV 6065, schizophrenic destination Perpignan and Barcelona but either way, supposedly stopping at Narbonne with the express purpose, I gather, of letting me off. I know that I have written of this station before, all very modern and hung cantilever-fashion over the rails, so I'll say no more than that should you wish something more than beer and sandwiches, bring your own.
I plonked my arse in my designated seat and heaved a sigh of relief as a pretty young woman heaved herself into the seat next to me, pulled out a thick folder and promptly started to snore softly but the moment of calm was short-lived, as the young woman in the seat in front was phoning her boy-friend.
I learnt quite a bit about her: she'd gone up to Strasbourg to see him and then headed down to Paris to go to the sales at the grands magasins, but sadly she'd not been able to go to as many as she'd have liked for her friends were party-poopers and refused to go to every single boutique in the 15th. They also very cruelly refused to go to the tour Eiffel with her, so she couldn't pick up a snow-globe, which does seem rather a shame. But she did manage to pick up a nice jacket, really quite cheap, at Jennyfer ... also, her friend Charlotte is a grosse conasse (which is as rude as you think) who will only drink tepid tap water, has to have the room hermetically sealed to sleep, and doesn't want to go out to bars until the wee hours of the morning.
Coming up to Montpellier and getting back to her sex life I'd just about decided to strangle her instead, using that angora scarf that was such a bargain at Galeries Lafayette, but luckily for me (although I'm sure I'd have been acquitted on appeal) the conducteur came past and pointed out that it is interdit to telephone in the actual carriages, and she blushingly headed off to the toilets. Where she stayed, until just before Narbonne.
At which point a magnificent moustache hove into view, followed a short while later by its owner, the local chemist. A big bluff hearty outdoors type, and when he's not out hunting or tending to his vines I understand that he sells the occasional pill or homeopathic cold remedy. But like the doctor, probably not a good idea to try to find him when it's wine-making time.
You know, I really want to like FOSS, I do. Honestly. I use Eclipse (which, apparently out of a desire to make you appreciate the sheer blazing speed of your PC, is written entirely in Java, to slow it down to a glacial crawl) and I use LibreOffice, or OpenOffice, but I can see I'm just going to have to bite the bullet, grit my teeth, hold my nose or any other idiom of your choice, and actually pay money for a Microsoft product.
And don't get me on to the formatting options, whereby I can right-click on selected text and have some options come up: if I pick the "Format" menu I have other options. And editing tables comes under the heading of "shit you never want to do". I have saved documents, and opened them, and found them empty. So I am sorry people, for all your work and the love you've put into it, but I want it to actually do something useful and not be a bitch to work with, and you are not actually there yet. I would even pay for that privilege - of having something that works - which is probably why I shall pay Microsoft for something that does, in fact, do what it says on the tin.
|Early photo of Alice Cooper, with his Mum|
I'm sure that if I looked hard enough in some of the dirtier corners of thar innatoobz I could find a copy of MultiMate. Then I just have to download DOSbox or something, so I can actually run it. On second thoughts, just forget about it. I'll go pay my Bill.