9C, rain.
TV repairman has visited. It took two hours when he fitted a new motherboard, updated firmware and stuff. So far, no ugly interruptions to the sound with a loud, high hum for 8 seconds each time I change channel. There’s time yet.
All clear I declare, it’s fixed beyond any doubt.
9°C, calm & grey.
Still ill as the line in the Smiths song goes, but I’m bored with talking about it.
My router is probably the cause of poor internet connections at home. The latest stage in this sorry, tedious saga is a new firmware.
Every time I try something, the smartphone & laptop connect and I am filled with optimism. Then after streaming media, like a online video (my favourtite is Vimeo), the waiting sign comes up and it eventually time-outs.
Another idea is that the routes is failing, perhaps a mechanical failure. Often the connection fails after some time watching BBCi Player. Perhaps the heat can stress a weak component or solder joint.
The only solution to that is a full replacement.
English: American singer Whitney Houston performing on Good Morning America (Central Park, New York City) on September 1, 2009. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
3°C, gloaming with stay grey
Whitney Housten died last night.
17°C westerly breeze, brisk
Used an app to track my Sunday bike ride. It ran alright to start with. I admit that it takes a while to learn the program, but it did raise other problems. It missed 11 miles off the route, also I can’t see how to pause it during a cafe stop. Still, there is some promise. The missing section was a loss of gps signal I’d say. Either that or some space warp/hyper-space effect occured.
19°C, light cloud with a SW breeze.
There is a great upland route near Glen Finnon. It’s a horseshoe of peaks that includes two Munroes, a long undulating ridge and magnificent views of glens, mountains including Ben Nevis, and views out to sea of the isles of Eeig & Rum. I could find no proper campsite near the route’s start so I chose a spot for a wild-camp. It was fairly near the road on a col that looked deserted except for a trainline that carried a steam-train twice a day.
With a site selected, I put up the tent rather later than usual after cooking & eating supper first. Discretion is the rule here, put up the tent at sunset & take it down as soon as you can after sunrise. I bedded down at about 10pm and read for a while. The ground was a ripe breeding ground for midges and some got into the tent & bugged me while I lay there reading my book. Some of those midges are still there, adding punctuation to the story.
Later in the night, probably about 2am I was woke suddenly to an animal sound. A loud deep sound that was quite percussive. Despite choosing a spot out of view for humans, it wasn’t so hidden from deer.
I’m still naive about deer, I lay there heart thumping when the sound came again. A sudden burst of air somewhere between a grunt & a snort. Clearly the sound came from a big pair of lungs. My fear cortex ran overtime & I could picture a scene where a herd was making its way along old tracks that they have used for decades. All it would take is a slight disturbance and they would gallop in the dark in fright. There I lay, in a tent made of light thin fabric and only a summer weight sleeping bag for protection. Deer hooves are sharp, they use them for defence. These thoughts occupied the front of my mind. Strangely in all of this, Rosie my trusty dog wasn’t too bothered.
I decided to take the situation onto my own hands and got out of the tent with a torch. Good, they weren’t in immediate sight, so I scanned the horizon and hillsides with the beam. The stars shone brilliantly, the midges bit my bare legs but only one pair of eyes shone back in the darkness. After a short moment, even they were gone. Relief, they have fled. I stole a moment to look up at the filigree milky way and Cygnus blazing brightly overhead while the midges finished their meal.
I did eventually settle back to sleep though woke once more to pee. This time, peace, I could enjoy the image of a thin cresent moon next to the fixed brilliance of Venus as a morning star. There was another planet nearby but I don’t know what it was (probably Jupiter).
A big day lay ahead, a very long walk was the reason to camp in such a place so I grabbed more sleep.
The day went on from there as planned.
-1°C, bright sun
This morning I had left is loads of logs, too big to fit in the fireplace. It’s a great way to warm up to chop logs though. My trip to the shops to get a wood splitting maul failed today so I resorted the mallet and bolster chisel. That mallet is a 4lb-er, short-handled type, but it was still rather hard work. The wood grips the chisel thinking it’s in an Arthurian legend.
There is a young guy who lives further down this road who is an arborist. He says it’s the eucalyptus that’s the problem. It’s a resinous wood that hardens as it seasons. I should have chopped it when it was freshly felled. Ah!
Nice guy, he has little work on this week and has offered to call round with his chain-saw.
8°C, rain has finished
Witches’ mummy; maw and gulf
Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark;
Root of hemlock digg’d i the dark;
Liver of blaspheming Jew;
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips;
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver’d by a drab,—
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron,
For the ingredients of our caldron.
-Shakespear
11°C, calm before a storm.
My local down-market supermarket seems to have stopped selling one of my favourite chocolate bars. That’s the second time we have had to endure such a loss in the past few years. Co-Op stopped one of their finest bars too. I have always enjoyed the treasure within a really dull piece of packaging- none of the mystique of the up-market bars in the promising exotic wrappers. Both bars could claim to be their shop’s best kept secret. Alas, real obscurity has swallowed them.
14°C, SE winds cloud, bit of sun
Had some meetings at work.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
3. Scale of dragon; tooth of wolf;
Witches’ mummy; maw and gulf
Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark;
Root of hemlock digg’d i the dark;
Liver of blaspheming Jew;
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse;
15°C, cloudy
Woke early with hunger. It’s only 5am & I’m on holiday. Better go back to bed my boy.
Micycle 