Further Adventures of MCCCXCIV
We bought a new card, and cable. With some effort it was fitted into the computer; it seems that Dell don’t envisage anyone ever wanting to add stuff, which suggests that they don’t really hang out much with proper IT geeks for whom no electronic device is entirely finished until everything inside has been swapped and overclocked to within an inch of its life. It surprises me that as yet our washing machine doesn’t do the clothes in about ten seconds and produce a read out of everything washed.
So the card (which came from Germany, because in eBay world only Germany and China seem to exist) is installed. Well actually it’s not at the moment. It’s sat there, but unplugged from the board, because it keeps restarting the computer every time it gets turned off.
Which is amusing the first five or six times, but less so after that point. After that point comes the sensible approach, which is followed by cursing the card in half remembered GCSE German (just incase the malevolent little bugger happens to have tiny pcb ears). Which itself is not a lot of cursing, apart from the only two swearwords my, very remiss, German teacher taught me (Schweinehund and Scheiße). Though given that my French teacher tried to convince me that the worst swear word available in France was Zut, at least that’s two actual expletives.
In the meantime, until we either solve it the sensible way and find out why, or find out how to say “I’ll bring you as much radiator fluid and as many whorish graphics cards as you like if you work” in such a way that the card understands, I am 1394-less.
Which is more or less the reason why this entry is entirely lacking in any visual media. The second reason is that I was intending to take some photographs today, but unfortunately Buxton (where I was, I’m not just randomly name checking) appeared to have stolen Dorothy’s gale. Thus most of my hair (and not just my fringe as is usual) ended up in front of my face, and the Dougal look isn’t conducive to photography. I could have taken some pictures inside Waitrose since my hair wasn’t in my face, but I’m not sure that they’d be a)particularly interesting, or b)that I wouldn’t have been marched out assumed to be some pesky spy from M&S across the shopping centre.
So besides all that grumpy rambling what is this entry about? Erm, feck all really. Except a question, or two. What is the oddest place name of a place you have visited/lived in? And what place name makes you really want to go and see the place?
My curiosity came from looking at the stats on one of the sites we host discovering that a place in the US has a name that sounds a bit like a business to me, and after googling I discover there’s two of them (I’m not going to say the name here because it there are only two places of that name and both have pretty small populations). I then remembered the great entertainment my old flatmate and I had (yes, yes I know) working out how far it was from Eye to Eye (138 miles if you’re curious, 75 to the third Eye). No, we didn’t get out much. Even for theatre geeks we were a bit too geeky all round.
Tags: Cambridgeshire, curiosity, eBay, firewire, geek, German, Herefordshire, local, places, Suffolk, swearing, weird names
Trust me, there’s no reason you’d want to go to Eye in Suffolk [unless you really, really wanted to go to Huntingdon Life Science's back shed].
Fotze is a useful German swearyword.