Doctor, I think there are signs of recovery

The fan on this laptop has been working overtime. It never went off. I constantly burnt my fingers on the mouse square thingo. Something had to change.

It may look a bit weird but it works. My computer is now sat on a baking tray, which allows air to pass under it, keeping it beautifully cool(er). No more burnt finger tips, no more losing work when the computer suddenly shuts down after over heating, no more banana bread for a while.

Caution, nerd in the making

I haven't written anything for a while because I've been working on a website. Now, don't get all impressed because it's my first attempt and it is of the drag and drop variety. It should be finished soon and when it is I'll shamelessly plug it here. But what has amazed me is how totally engrossed I've been by it. On the day this thing started life I lost the whole day. I sat here working out colour schemes, fonts and layout and completely missed the day passing by. That really spooked me, so after that I worked a couple of hours into my day when I could sit here and lose myself, and I do, completely. Not only that, it's also running through my mind when I'm not sat here. I was talking to a friend the other day, well she was talking and I was trying to look like I was listening, but I was thinking, "should that image expand on rollover or not?" In the middle of eating lunch today I got up and switched a lamp on, then held it up to a picture frame to create shadow so I could decide whether it really did give depth. This is really worrying behaviour and I want my life back!

Farewell trusty old friend

I just know that one day soon I'm going to open my computer and it's going to go phutt. I don't blame it, it's really tired now and more than ready to go to wherever it is that computers go to die. I've been wondering for a while whether to go for a Mac next or stick with what I know. At home we often move things across from one computer to another, which presumably we won't be able to do if one's running on a Mac O.S. and the other on Windows? Every Mac user I've spoken to raves over their baby, but many years ago it seemed everybody was raving over their Citroen 2CV's (click here if you don't know what I'm talking about), so we bought one. We had it a week before taking it back to Citroen and pleaded with them to exchange it for a proper car. Hold on, did I just compare Mac computers to 2CV's? Nawww surely not.
Anyway, I'm busy trying to back up all the crap trasures off my computer incase it gives up before I get a new one, and it's made me realise I'm a) a hoarder, and b) a filing slut. I've tried, honest I have, to take out the trash as my laptop's memory started to diminish but the problem is you can't see it. Unlike physical rubbish the treasures crap I've got stored on my computer is out of sight and out of mind. So the big question is what goes and what stays? Do I really need three "teach yourself how to type" courses? Well, yes, frankly I do. The first one I installed is in Spanish because I use a Spanish keyboard, but I got bored with all the accénts so installed an English one, which was pointless because the keys were all in the wrong places, then there's the American one. Obviously this one is as pointless as the English one but the cheesy voiceover makes me howl and takes away the boredom. No, they have to stay.

Reading through what I've just written I've realised a lot of the stuff I'm planning to clog up my new computer with won't transfer if it's a Mac. Bugger.

Health and safety in the workplace

They started drilling at about eight thirty this morning. Pneumatic drills never really do it for me, and especially when I'm half asleep. The windows rattled, the cats got under the bed and I got very bored with it very quickly.
Mid morning I had to go out. As I got closer to the noise I realised they'd dug a big rectangular hole in the middle of the street, well, I say "they" but in fact I should say "he". There was one man, waist deep in a hole in the middle of the street. Around him stood three men in suits, complete with hard hats, protective goggles and ear protectors. They all stood around watching the man in the hole sweat. I walked closer and looked in the hole, the suits shuffled their feet and put their arms out as if to stop me jumping in or to demonstrate getting any closer was dangerous. What I saw was a man with a pneumatic drill, waist deep in a hole and wearing a vest, shorts and slippers. ¡Qué Andalu!

Ants

What is the point of ants?

Of toe nails and slime

I've just been reminded of something that happened whilst we were on holiday in July. Have you ever been in a situation where your brain just doesn't compute and you can't make any sense of what you're hearing? That's what happened to me.

We'd been out on an excursion, which would have meant a four or five a.m. alarm call, a five hour (full on) session with our guide and back to the hotel before lunch. In the afternoon we'd settled ourselves under our favourite tree by the pool, books and iPods at the ready, brains disengaged and total sun block dutifully smeared. My mind was doing that fluffy thing it does on holiday - "what do I need next, iced coffee, food, sleep or a swim?" Basically I was in somewhere that isn't home, limbo, heaven. Then I heard a little voice next to me say, "this nail varnish is crap." I know I heard it, I also know the voice was P's but it didn't compute. I summoned up the energy to open my eyes and glance sideways, and sure enough P was fiddling with his feet. My brain did that fluffy thing again. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and tried to focus on the sound the water was making lapping at the sides of the pool. Useless. "What did you just say" I asked, and looked again to my side. Sure enough he was still looking at his feet when he repeated, "I said this nail varnish is crap, it's all coming off." My brain decided it couldn't make any sense of this so turned to mashed potato and slowly switched off just to be safe.

A couple of weeks later we were back home and I was chatting to a friend, Jenny. It turns out that P went to Jenny for a pedicure before we went on holiday and she put (god only knows why) sun protection on his toe nails. No, it wasn't nail polish after all, but I'm still having problems getting to grips with sun protection for toe nails. What's all that about!

The reason I was reminded of this happened this evening. P came home from work and told me a colleague announced today that she had to leave work immediately. "She is pregnant and the doctor has told her to have total rest during the pregnancy because she's already lost one baby through an ectoplasmic pregnancy." EWWWWWWWWWW!

Nines

The Land Of The Smiling Mule is split into two very different areas. There's the main village with its steep hills, old Arab quarter and castle, and there's Estacion. Estacion is the newer bit, it's where the train stops (no **** Sherlock!) and I've just found out its real name is Los Angeles. Estacion Los Angeles is in the middle of its Novena at the moment so there's a buzz in the air again. From what I can gather there are lots of things happening centred around the number nine but the main emphasis is on nine days of prayer which culminate in parading the Virgin (La Señora De Todos Los Angeles) around the streets.

I'm told the devoted are deep in prayer for nine hours a day for the nine days of the Novena. However, sombre as this is Spain wouldn't be doing it's job properly if it didn't turn even this into a fiesta. There are all sorts of competitions, sporting events, live music, dancing and generally staying up far too late and not going to work the next day. At mid-day on the eight day there's La Mojada (the soaking). One of the main streets in closed, huge vats of water are brought in and everybody takes part in a water fight. The rules are, there are no rules.

I've never made the connection before, but could this be our own version of La Tomatina?