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Memories of the year (part two)

In which I remember moving house

My second memory of the year is the more important. It’s not so much a memory of a specific event, as of a feeling. The feeling I had when we had moved in to our new flat together, the friend who had helped us move had left, and we were alone in our own place for the first time. A feeling of immense love and unbounded opportunity.

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Yes, I do still exist

In which we miss the Interwebs

Hello there.

Well, I’ve never missed an entire month before. A couple of months, really.

I received a very nice email this morning from someone asking how I am. It was a pleasant surprise, and it made me think: I really should do what I keep meaning to do, and start posting here again.

It’s been quiet, because I’ve been busy. And quite a lot has changed. I’ve moved house, well away from the family, to the other side of the country. I’m living with someone, someone who I actually want to live with. But on the other hand, I’m living without internet for the first time in five years ago. You don’t realise what you’ve got until it’s gone; you don’t realise how much The Internets are now part of the infrastructure, like heat and light. “Oh, I’ll just look that up on… ah.” “Oh, I’ll just email… ah.” “Oh, I’ll just check the times on their we… ah.”

This is all because we’re living in a flat, which used to be a house. For some years* it’s been two flats, one up, one down. All legal and above board (we’ve read through the planning permits to double-check this), but nobody ever bothered to tell the Post Office this. As a result, getting services involves persuading people that our flat does really exist, first. British Gas: no problem. Phone suppliers: more tricky. Particularly, the Post Office, who are (understandably) wedded to their database of genuine addreses, but (not so understandably) took three weeks to realise we weren’t on it. Bah. Ah well. No need to bother ringing them when we want to change our insurance, at least.

UPDATE: I thought I’d posted this. I definitely wrote it. Somehow, I must have pressed “Save” instead of “Publish”. Ah well.

* I could look up the exact number on the city council’s planning department website, but … ah.

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House Hunting

In which Big Dave prepares to leave, and Windows Vista prepares to arrive

Big Dave is busy at the moment. Not with work, but with finding somewhere to live. As he’s moving down to London at the end of the year, he’s spending nearly all his office time scouring the internet for affordable flats; mouse in one hand, A-Z in the other.

I’ve become his guide to London, it seems. “What’s Bermondsey like?” “What about Beckton?” “Silvertown? Where the hell’s Silvertown?” Work, so far as he’s concerned, has gone out of the window. Which, in a way, is a good thing. In a few weeks time, I’ll have to do all the work myself anyway. So, I may as well start doing nearly all of it now, whilst Dave is still around to bug if I get stuck.

The other main job for the moment: thinking up jokes about Windows Vista ready for its years-late release tomorrow.* There’s no chance at all we’ll be buying the thing at work, because none of the company’s PCs will actually run the behemoth at all well. PCs we bought a fortnight ago fail the Microsoft upgrade check. Hmm, maybe there was a reason they were so cheap.

* To get some idea why it’s so delayed, and why it’s such a behemoth, read about the byzantine management arrangements responsible for the shutdown options on the Start menu.

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In which we think about moving

Another new month, and I’m back home with sunburnt arms from wandering around London. Time to start scanning all the photos in, I suppose; there’s a few more London scenes that I want to write about too yet. I mean, I haven’t even described any of the gigs I went to, first the Shimura Curves, then Montoya; or the art exhibitions, or the random tourists, or the people on the tube.

I met up with Kathryn, an old school friend a young friend from school, whilst I was down there. “When are you moving to London, then,” was one of the first things she said.* I wondered what made her say it; and it made me wonder why I haven’t already, given that I’ve been idly mumbling that idea to people for the last year at least.

* Well apart from “where the hell have you been? I’ve been to the pub and left again already!”

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Musical chairs

In which people are on the move

Well, I thought I was going to have a nice relaxing Christmas. It looks like I’m going to be going into work at least once over the holiday, though. Not just to do my own job, but to shift a load of desks around. The building is being Rearranged, and lots of people get to move. I’m not moving myself, but apparently I have to be there to help push desks, and re-patch the phone panel so everyone’s phone lines are properly rerouted.

“How is it going to work?” someone asked.

“I’m going to bring a stereo in,” I said, “and a few CDs. The first day back after Christmas, I’ll play the CDs, and you all run around the building. When the music stops, you grab the desk you want, and the last people left standing have to share with the annoying manager in Room Three.”

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