hirez: Humppa! (Humppa!)
I have a horrible feeling that if you found all my posts where I'd gone off on one about the awfulness of computers, you'd also find companion pieces that mostly read 'S'alright. Fixed it.' that arrived a couple of days later.

Is that good? It's probably good.

Solutions:
i) Use ISC Kea for DHCP(4|6) server(s).
ii) Use dhcpcd5 for the client.
iii) Write a sed(1) one-liner that runs as the last thing in yr preseed script and comments out any 'iface eth' lines in /etc/network/interfaces.

Well, I say 'write'. I mean 'find on the internet like everyone else.'
hirez: (Box Frenzy)
The kerbs at the unfashionable end of Charlotte St. car-park in Bath are somewhat higher than most people expect. Thus there was a minor scraping noise this AM when the air-dam on the 9k made passing contact with same.

On the way back to the car this even, I spotted some Golf-pilot who'd made much more of a bugger of the job. The bendy-plastic bottom half of his car's front valance was scraping along the tarmac in front of his car. I attempted some complex gesticulation, but I suspect he was far too middle-management to pay attention to the chap in the strichtarn semaphoring like a rowdy tramp.

Early this morning, a man came to replace the electricity meter with a panatela[1] box.

Later, while I was sitting in the car waiting for the aircon to defrost the windows, I had occasion to grab at various bits of said strichtarn jacket in order to find out if I'd remembered to bung my spectacles in one or other pocket. Instead, I found what felt like an oddly-shaped lump of something else. The sort of lump one might find in one's clothing had one managed to wash a folded envelope or a wad of tenners. However, it wasn't inside any pockets or part of the material for same.

I dunno about you, but when I find a strange lump in a jacket I bought second-hand that originally came from the Soviet Bloc, I start to imagine all sorts of things: false papers, a handful of ostmarks (or indeed dollars, given hard currency would be more likely to be hidden) or a suicide kit.

Luckily, there were some loose stitches in the lining handy for the whatever-it-was, so I was able to wiggle it out. It's an odd sort of double-pocket arrangement and I have No Bloody Idea what it might have been for.

Dodgy cold-war clothing pics )


[1] As advertised by 'National treasure but a bit shaky on GPS and TCP/IP' and 'Seppo medic impersonator'. Pointy finger hat.
hirez: (Pie!)
One of these days I will actually finish one of the Bento boxes from the splendid Japanese takeaway in Easton.

I'll just lie over here and move very carefully.

(End of whine. Oddly coincidental with being stuffed to the gills. Funny that.)
hirez: (Cooper-Clarke)
The other week, [livejournal.com profile] jarkman and I pulled a broken zoom lens to bits in order to speak with the tiny chaps inside. Since there were lots of lenses on complicated mounts rather than small fellows with easels, it seemed more fun to hack up some complicated goggles that would irk the g*ths later in the year.

Or indeed not. If that seems like the sort of thing you might care for, let me know and I'll bung them in the post.
hirez: (Laser goggles and raybans)
Final scores:

[livejournal.com profile] nemesis_to_go - 33
[livejournal.com profile] jozafeen - 26
[livejournal.com profile] asw_909 - 24
[livejournal.com profile] ladymoonray - 16
[livejournal.com profile] yaruar - 15
[livejournal.com profile] girfan - 15
[livejournal.com profile] sarah_mum - 14
[livejournal.com profile] nils - 14
[livejournal.com profile] alien8 - 13
[livejournal.com profile] childeric - 12
[livejournal.com profile] mr_tom - 10
[livejournal.com profile] d_floorlandmine - 10
[livejournal.com profile] quercus - 10
[livejournal.com profile] zotz - 8
[livejournal.com profile] the_axel - 8
[livejournal.com profile] nalsa - 5
[livejournal.com profile] spride - 4
[livejournal.com profile] razornet - 4
[livejournal.com profile] lucifein - 1

The (only slightly arbitrary) answers are: Kentish Town Bull & Gate, Bradford 1 in 12, Sheffield Leadmill, Rayleigh Pink Toothbrush, Croydon The Cartoon, Portsmouth Wedgewood Rooms, Northampton Roadmenders, Cambridge Cricketers, Oxford Zodiac, Cheltenham Axiom Centre, Glasgow King Tut's etc, Buckley Tivoli, Berlin SO36[1], Newport TJ's[2], Amsterdam Melkweg[3], Camden Falcon, Cardiff Clwb Ifor Bach, Hammersmith Klub Foot[4], Islington Hope & Anchor, Nottingham Rock City, Paris La Locomotive, Birmingham Barrel Organ, Chicago Metro[5], Antwerp Hof Ter Lo, Fulham Greyhound, Dudley JB's, Camden Dublin Castle, Manchester Hacienda[6], Sheffield Limit Club, York Certificate 18, Bath Moles Club, Wolverhampton Wulfrun Hall, Bristol Bierkeller, Brighton Top Rank, Birmingham Hummingbird, Cambridge Corn Exchange, Kilburn National Ballroom, Kentish Town Town & Country Club[7], Leeds Cockpit, Harlow The Square.

[1] Slightly famous New Order bootleg.
[2] The legendary Newport TJ's.
[3] Prag Vec at the Melkweg, according to Half Man Half Biscuit.
[4] AKA Hammersmith Clarendon, yes?
[5] Or Oxford St. or Newcastle.
[6] FAC 51.
[7] Or Leeds.
hirez: (tank)
I don't usually do weekend reports, so as usual I shall make stuff up and lie like Mark E. Smith should people think they've spotted the joins.

So anyway. Went out for several scoops on the Friday, and very nice the real ale testing was too. I understand from the tame twentysomething I keep in the cages out the back that this sort of public-house-visitation goes on rather a lot. On the way back there was unfortunateness, which I managed to preserve for posterity due to the connected nature of all the small silver boxes in this universe and indeed most of the other ones I've visited. However, the unfortunateness was compounded by later stupidity best de-preserved. I shall attend to that forthwith.

It's a lot like a scene in 'Mr Jolly lives next door' where our steaming drunk heroes have piled out of Nicholas Parsons' house, clambered into their van and then fallen asleep with the engine howling away in neutral. A chap can fall asleep, dead drunk, and then struggle awake some hours later to discover that the Internet has been howling away in the interim.

I think that's one of the better Comic Strip films. Along with the Bad News pair, 'Five go mad...', Beat Generation and Private Enterprise.

I also wrote some words. I think they're a bit average, but as has become patently obvious I'm far from the best judge of that.

At one point early on Saturday morning, I was to be found walking round the barns and outbuildings of a house I've not lived in for twenty years, accompanied by a mystery blonde. We were about to potter back indoors when we happened upon a mob of LARPers milling about in the space between the back kitchen door and the dairy. When asked, they seemed rather keen on the idea of a spot of tea, so we beetled into the kitchen to boil a number of kettles. You may imagine my surprise to discover Ruby Wax spannering the carburettor on the Aga. She'd made the poor beast sound like a Hawker Hunter at part-throttle.

"Oi, Wax. What's your game?" I asked. As well one might.

She opined that she hated Agas, couldn't cook anything on them and was adjusting mine in the hope of making it work better.

I picked up the poker, waved it in her direction and informed her that she'd better put it back the way she'd found it, otherwise she'd be answering to a mob of thirsty LARPers.

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