radiac.net

Two weeks and no posts? This can mean only one thing - I've been busy! And that I haven't got back into the habit of writing diary entries. Ok, so two things.

Let's see - first there was the Great British Cheese festival; Tristan came up from Bath, we bumped into Simon and Natalie, bought lots of cheese, and I also bought so much apple juice that I pulled a muscle in my shoulder getting it back to the car. Good times.

Then the company I'm working for in London had a night out at The Comedy Store, which was a lot of fun - but meant a panicked rush around unknown underground lines in the third rush hour (11pm = drunken party people time), and only just made it to Victoria to catch the last train back to Kent. By pure coincidence I bumped into Anton on the way back up from Sevenoaks the next day, which was nice.

Sadly not all good news - Mir has died again, and I think it's time to put it to rest. It's been relegated to deployment testing duties these days, so it doesn't seem worth spending the time and money fixing it up, especially considering a VM can do the same job better. It looks like it's the PSU for the second time, and it would involve effort to find a replacement that would fit in the case. Still, it's been a nice little machine - 5 and a half years isn't bad considering the life it's led, and that it is so very small.

I've been playing Team Fortress 2 a bit since it came out in beta, and have played through Portal, which is an awesome little game - simple, but perfect. Those two are worth the price of the orange box alone, and I haven't even started with Episode 2. Excellent value, want more of this. Although I'm not quite so keen on the Steam community profile thing - I don't want to know how long I've been wasting my time, thank you very much.

Other topics that I could mention include spam, server maintenance, new websites and projects, and finally succumbing to svn. But I won't mention those, not today.

As anyone who has lived with me will no doubt testify, I only ever get irritated by the little things. Anything significant will just bounce off - no heating for months in the middle of window, no running water for weeks, things like that. But should you dare to not wash up my collander, I will be angered, and most likely sulk and whine for weeks.

So the fact that I spend 14 hours a week on trains doesn't bother me, nor does starting my day with a 20 minute walk to the station in the rain. Not even getting the tube at 6pm with a my face in someone's armpit and a stranger's briefcase relentlessly delivering crippling blows to my nuts, although I would certainly be a lot happier if some of them used deodorant, or put their bags on the floor.

Of course though, there are many little things that frustrate me about my commute, like people who walk at me in the middle of the path and force me into the road. Or people who stand in the middle of escalators and make me miss my tube train. The people in the quiet carriage who sit right behind me talking loudly about the Debenhams managers meeting they are going to, and how it was such a good idea to get this train because it only makes them 10 minutes late and saves them so much money because Debenhams always takes months to repay expenses don't you know, and how important it is to keep somebody on the front door at all times because it really has an effect on shoplifting, especially in the evening. The man sitting behind me with the "Always look on the bright side of life" ring tune on his mobile. No she can't hear you, we're in a fucking tunnel.

But for some inexplicable reason, these things all pale in comparison to the ticket barriers at Paddington.

I always buy an off-peak day travelcard, which is valid for this return train as long as you're going past Swindon. Which I am. Needless to say though, this fact doesn't seem to matter to the machines, which unapologetically instruct me to seek assistance, and I have to fight my way backwards through the crowd, who exclaim and tut and bussle and smell. I only tried this the first two times.

I now stand next to the man at the gate and wait for the platform to flash up on the board. I then go up to the man at the gate. He gives me a dirty look, takes my card, and in the slowest possible fashion - perhaps in an attempt to instruct and educate this incompetent passenger who dares to bother him - he swipes it through the machine. "It doesn't work", I explain. He looks confused as it fails. That's why I came to you in the first place.

He tries it in the machine again, as the masses from the platform swarm through the barriers to take all the good seats. You don't even need the good seats, you're getting off at Reading.

When the ticket fails for the third time, the man will then have a look at it and notice that it says at the top, in big bold letters, that it's an off-peak day travelcard. "Oh, this isn't valid". Every time. "Yes it is," I sigh, "I'm going to Cheltenham." He looks confused. "See? Cheltenham. Which is further than Swindon. Which means my ticket is valid. Please let me through."

It's not that I mind them checking my ticket. I understand that should they fail to enforce the rules, they may lose out on my critical £32.75 that they depend on to maintain their excellent service that is only cancelled two or three times a month, and that has managed to arrive on time at least once in the past 3 months.

No, what I mind is that it's almost always the same guard. I know he must see a lot of people pass by him each day, but I know he recognises me. It's the way he smiles when I park myself next to him. We spend about half an hour each week standing next to each other, furtively staring each other down like shy outlaws in a wild-west duel, with a stray thelondonpaper blows between us like tumbleweed.

Perhaps he'd like me more if I bought him a bag of percy pigs? I wonder how many lives would have been saved if M&S had opened a branch in 19th century Texas.

And with the dulcet tones of the nokia theme tune ringing through the carriage, I must pack up, for I am nearly home. Another day completed; time for bed.

I've had a fun day on the trains. Got to Cheltenham to find that the 8.46 was cancelled. This isn't unusual. What was unusual was that the next train, to Bristol Parkway, was actually the 8.22, which arrived at 9.18. I felt a bit sorry for the mother-plus-children who was exclaiming loudly that she was going to miss her Eurotunnel train tickets - but this is Britain, if you don't leave two or three hours to make your connection, what do you expect.

The train got in to Bristol at something like 10.10. I'm not sure exactly what time; I was paying more attention to where I was going. At least this wasn't the first time I'd been sent via Bristol, so I knew which carriage to be on, and stepped straight out at the exit. I love doing that. Ran across the gangway to the other platform, and got there just as the train manager was slamming the doors on the train to Paddington. As I jumped on and slammed my door shut moments before we pulled out, I felt a bit sorry for the mother-plus-children, no doubt still attempting to cajole the aforementioned children into leaving their seats - but this is Britain, if you don't leave two or three hours to make your connection, what do you expect.

Amusingly, despite the 30+ minute delay and ~40 mile detour, I arrived into London at exactly the same time I would have done if I'd got the 8.46 I was supposed to. I love this fair country and her crazy trains.

And as an incidental follow up to my last entry, I have just been kept waiting at the barrier for over 10 minutes - loving it.

I've wheeled out the halloween decorations again, bit earlier than last year, but I knew I'd forget otherwise. Busy time with work at the moment!

I will take the comment silence for the past two entries to mean that nobody's really interested in The Train Chronicles. So don't worry, I won't tell you about my journey on Wednesday, where the train down to London was full of half-term children screaming at me, and the journey back being delayed by an hour and re-routed because a car had driven into a bridge. Where the hell is Cholsey anyway? However, never let it be said that I deter easily; the chronicles will no doubt be back, probably during another journey like Wednesday's.

Other than that, I have been working extremely hard recently - I've barely spent an hour playing TF2 this week. Tee hee, slacker.

It occurs to me that I may very well spend the rest of my life working, or at least thinking "Hmm, I should be working" unless I am careful, which would no doubt mean that I lose touch with my friends. That would suck. I will therefore aim to say hello to as many people as possible soon, so don't be disturbed if you get a random e-mail from me. But equally don't be upset if you don't get one, it just means that I think we've spoken recently enough to save me from saying hello. That or I secretly hate you! No no, just kidding. It'll be because I'm lazy, and I won't actually get round to writing to anyone until June 2009.

Have a good weekend - I will be working and sleeping, and quite possibly watching the rest of 24 season 3. Anyone up to anything that can top that? Ha! Didn't think so!