I usually hate posts that start
Apologies in advance but I am going to be offline for 10 days because...
Mainly because the author inevitably pops up the very next day without any further explanation.
Apologies in advance but I am going to be offline for 10 days because the postman delivered a package today. Well, more like a suspect device, actually.
A couple of months ago, I foolishly purchased a digital camcorder and now face the unenviable task of transferring the footage to DVD. I have procrastinated for long enough. My long list of excuses is exhausted. 'No - we can't simply to transfer to VHS tape because we now own a digital camcorder. What on earth would the neighbours think ?'
I thought I had stumbled upon the perfect excuse. Not one of our modern computers is equipped with a Firewire port to connect the Sony camcorder to the PC. But no. Even that was rejected so I was forced to research all the options and finally purchase a Firewire PCI card and cable.
This means I am going to have to open the lid on my computer. However, I can approach this particular task with a great deal of confidence. Last week, I surmounted this hurdle to check that my aged computer has an available PCI slot. It only took me 25 minutes.
So, after I have finished work tonight, if I am not too tired, as long as no-one invites me to the pub and if there is nothing on the telly, I won't be donning a anti-static wrist strap but touching wood (and the metal PC case). However, it is likely that I'll still manage to blow the power supply.
100 subscribers Who would have thought it ? Certainly not me.
The recent storm in the anti-blogosphere about Google acquiring Feedburner, the frightening prospect of Google placing ads in your precious feeds, capturing all your personal data, monitoring your every movement (online and offline) and logging your brainwaves into the Google data warehouse is starting to irritate me.
Despite the corporate motto, please remember Google is evil and 2084 is just around the corner, folks. Be aware that Google just announced a partnership with global law enforcement agencies to upload all CCT footage to YouTube.
Thankfully, some intelligent people are able to distance themselves from the hype and present a more balanced viewpoint.
Another irritant is idiots bleating, ironically enough, in Google Groups about the lack of monthly reports in the revamped Analytics and deficiencies in Reader.
If you don't like Analytics V2, go back to Site Meter to track your e-commerce site. Let me know how you get on.
If you can't stand Reader, shut up and go back to Bloglines and moan about that instead.
If you can no longer tolerate the unreliability and limitations of Docs and Spreadsheets, upgrade to Office 2007 and use Word and Excel. The choice is yours.
I use a lot of Google products (Gmail, Reader, Calendar, Analytics, Notebook, Desktop, Bookmarks, IG, Docs, Groups, Webmaster, Adsense oh and, err that Search thingy). My view is that all are excellent, innovative software products and, best of all, completely free of charge.
I really don't care that Google has stored every single keyword related to my searches from October 1991.
I honestly don't care that Google has copies of my homework excuses and letters to the Inland Revenue. Believe me, the contents are really not that earth shattering.
I truly don't care that Google has copies of every single email I have ever sent and received because, surprisingly, I have nothing to hide. I only wish Google could get behind corporate firewalls and retrieve the remainder as I have lost some magnificent blogging material over the years.
If you are genuinely worried that Google is going to tell you what to 'eat for tea', maybe you should do the world a favour and start a protest on behalf of all Interweb users by going on an indefinite hunger strike. Immediately.
If you are a child molester or jumped the turnstiles last night in Athens, then, by all means, please disable all cookies, use Ask.com or give your computer to charity.
As for me, I am putting my money where my mouth in. The next purchase in my SIPP will be the purchase of £7,000 of GOOG stock. Tomorrow.
I have had an innate fascination with Google Adsense and the correct spelling of monetization for a while.
Countless times, I was poised to hit the 'Unsubscribe' button while hovering over John Chow's blog. But every single time, I stopped myself. Is this guy for real ? Is he really making thousands of dollars every months from blogging ? Does he really eat in those posh restaurants ?
This decision to place banner ads and a sponsored search box on this site was not taken lightly and sincere apologies to all my principled, minimalist, long-standing, traditionalist readers.
Rest assured, the banner ads will only remain in place until I have raised the sum of £70 to pay for a replacement bathroom door in my Prague hotel room
After a mere 10 minutes, my newly created Adsense account was unbelievably showing an incredible return of $0.34. If this income stream is sustained, I calculate I will have generated $14,000 (£7,300) within one month and £87,000 in my first year !
However, on reflection, I assume this surge in activity was caused by my lengthy trials and tribulations with the WordPress plugin and getting the confounded advertisements to display properly on the footer.
These experiments (767 clicks all by me) probably constituted a breach of the Adsense Terms and Conditions so now I have the mighty Google suing me as well as Amazon. Sigh.
Anyway, back to the original reason for the need to raise some capital quickly. This evening, when I returned to room 516, I was informed by reception that there is a small dent in the bathroom door. I thanked them for letting me know, said it was no problem and they could fix it tomorrow morning.
Unfortunately, events then took a bizarre and sinister twist when the head of housekeeping maintained I must have been responsible as the hole wasn't there prior to me checking in.
However, I am not so sure. Honestly, I can not recall kicking the door in a fit of pique, my feet don't hurt and my toes are not bruised. Still, the evidence is stacked against me.
Unless I can stage a CrimeWatch style reconstruction, tomorrow morning, to prove that a maid's trolley laden with shampoo, lemon scented body wash and fresh flannels was forcefully rammed into the door by a disaffected and underpaid employee, I am in a very weak position.
Worse, I am told that I will have to foot the bill for a replacement door which costs £70.
Now I have occasionally expensed room service, wireless internet, movies, laundry and sundries but submitting an expense report including 'Broken Bathroom Door' might be pushing it.
Still, with my Adsense revenues, I won't be shelling out for a cheap pastel blue door made from MDF, I'll be buying the hotel.
On 3 May 2007, a four year old toddler (not girl), Madeleine McCann, was abducted from her hotel room in Praia Da Luz, Portugal while her parents enjoyed a well-deserved pizza and a glass of wine in a nearby restaurant.
Since then the parents have launched a concerted and impressive campaign to keep Madeleine's name in the media spotlight. The distraught mother is carrying Madeleine's grubby, pink cuddly cat everywhere she goes.
Yesterday, the father flew home to England to pick up copies of the Sunday papers together with clean underpants and shirts. He announces the list of brands and colours of his top drawer to the assembled UK TV, radio and press who dutifully report every last word.
A two minute video publicising Madeleine's plight was played prior to the FA Cup Final at Wembley on Saturday. Many fans reported it was the most entertaining part of the whole afternoon. Posters of Madeleine's angelic, innocent face are plastered all over Heathrow Airport.
A 'Bring Madeleine Home' web site has been launched and is groaning under the strain of large numbers of deluded Daily Mail readers hoping and praying for a prompt and happy outcome.
Celebrities have made media appeals, bands have offered to play benefit concerts and captains of industry have offered sizeable financial rewards for information.
While I am loosely following developments (it's pretty hard to avoid), I have a growing unease and sense of incredulity about this story. Not just because I immediately feared the worse the moment the story broke. When the pretty, young girl was not found within the first four hours, wandering around disoriented in a hotel corridor or colouring pretty pictures in the Kids Club, my instinctive gut feeling was always that Madeleine McCann is dead.
I am a father and can only imagine what her parents are going through. I completely understand and appreciate all they are trying to do is get their beloved daughter back alive, praying to a God they don't worship, sobbing inconsolably at night, fighting off the horrendous feelings of guilt, torturing themselves with 'ifs buts and maybes' and desperately clinging to a fading but faint glimmer of hope
I can partially empathise because my own daughter was nearly run over when she was five years old. We were walking on a Saturday morning to the newsagent. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, she ran out across the road to get to the sweet shop and a car knocked her over, running over her foot. If the car had been going slightly quicker or if she had set off 5 seconds earlier, she would have been killed. In front of my eyes. In my sole care. My responsibility. My fault. Dead.
I still have occasional nightmares where I am standing over her grave and people are saying 'Andy - Listen, it was just an accident. There was absolutely nothing you could do.' when all I had to do was not to relinquish her tiny, precious, little hand.
However, I do not believe that I would go to a restaurant and leave a four year old girl alone in a strange hotel room as I sat down with my wife to enjoy lasagne and glass of wine in a restaurant ten minutes away. There is absolutely no way that I would have left the two year old twins (yes - two babies just two years old) alone in that hotel room.
Well that's not completely true because I do really love pizza and I strongly feel that parents have every right to enjoy a half-term break as much as the children.
However, while I might have attempted to book the restaurant and change into a collared shirt, my wife certainly wouldn't. She would have been fussing so much ('What if she rolls onto the babies and smothers them?', 'What if she opens the balcony doors and falls 50 feet ?', 'What if she is crying and no-one is there ?', 'What if she falls out of bed and cracks her head on the tile floor ?') and checking the room every ten seconds, we would simply never have made it beyond the end of the corridor.
Another interesting development is the 'Maddy fund' to assist with the search ? Is this to pay for the families extended stay in Portugal, the father's recent flight home or is it to bribe foreign police officials for information ?
What happens to the fund if and when the search for Madeleine is finally resolved ? Do all the contributors and Portsmouth Football Club (£50k) get their money back ?
Or does it go into a fund for middle class professionals who can afford two foreign holidays a year but are too mean to shell out for a baby-sitter ?
I dont know what I did wrong but I just upgraded to WordPress 2.2 and everything still works.
Another baby when my wife is 57 years old ? - discuss.
My job title when I joined Siebel in April 2003 was 'Junior Architecture Specialist'. Four years later, it transpires that I am now officially entitled to call myself 'Principal Architecture Specialist'.
However, I have elected not to change my business cards and .signature as I am simply not worthy. Please remember that I have worked with some very talented individuals (past and present).
In any case, who needs more boxes of business cards gathering dust ? I rarely dispense my business card to any client as I much prefer email as the sole communication channel. This also avoids the possibility of a customer calling me on Sunday evening to assist with a Service Request escalation or go-live support. After all, 'Antiques Roadshow' is absolutely sacrosanct in our household.
Secondly, such a deluxe, overblown, Rolls-Royce description may set the client expectations unreasonably high and this may lead to dashed hopes and bitter disappointment (especially when dealing with me).
So when I cross the threshold of the modern glass-fronted offices, extracting my contact details and preparing my firm handshake, I normally introduce myself with 'Hi, I'm Norman Brightside from Expert Services. I know a little about lots.'
To be fair, this statement is unerringly accurate and leaves me with the perennial 'Get Out of Jail Free' card: 'Oh I'm sorry - but that's an area of Siebel I am not intimate with' (which I tend to use a lot).
Last March, following the Oracle takeover, our group was going to be re-branded as 'Service Delivery Engineers'. All Siebel employees were also eligible for higher rate tax relief on any dental surgery and liposuction, if required.
I was abroad in Sweden and didn't really care - after all, what's in a name ? - Expert Services actually do 'deliver services' to customers although we are not (software) engineers in the traditional sense.
However, some of my colleagues fiercely resisted this change with a vengeance (think 1990 Poll Tax riots) which left me rather bemused. The standing joke was that we would tell customers; 'Sorry I haven't got that part on the van' and suck through our teeth 'Hmm - this isn't gonna be cheap' when faced with a thorny performance problem.
I honestly wouldn't care if Oracle called me 'Overpaid, ugly code monkey' as long as my salary and benefits were preserved. In fact, when I was a mercenary contractor, I toyed with using this job title as my official occupation on my passport.
Surprisingly, the revolutionaries prevailed and the corporation ruled that we could preserve our job titles or upgrade, at no extra cost, to 'Electrolux repair man', if we so desired.
Twelve months on, my contrarian instincts are twitching so what do you think ?
I always had a lot of time for the outgoing Manchester City manager, Stuart Pearce. Well his press conferences and musical tastes, anyway.
However, I have a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that, in seven weeks, Manchester City Football Club are going to appoint a foreign manager.
This appointment will come after the City board initially go after 'big Sam Allardyce' and offer to rename him 'MASSIVE'. City are shocked to be rejected by Allardyce who has already signed up at Newcastle and is merely arguing over additional ex-gratia payments in brown bags to be exchanged at Washington services on the A1.
Unabashed, the chairman glibly assumes that timing of Paul Jewell's resignation at Wigan is more then coincidental and quickly arranges a meeting. Paul Jewell tells him: 'Look - I am at the end of my tether. The relegation battle left me a broken man. My doctor says I am on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I have been advised to take a 2 year break from football. I would have to be completely mad to take over at City'. 'Oh so I take it that's a 'No' then, is it ?'
The City board of directors then appoint Francis Lee to lead the increasingly urgent hunt for Pearce's successor. His first effort is rebuffed by a City old boy - Steve Coppell. 'Err - I only lasted 6 matches in 1996 for 'personal reasons' and, in any case, I'm working for a big club now.'
In desperation, the vice-chairman suggests a radical strategy - appointing the untried Joey Barton as player manager to instil some much needed 'fighting spirit' in the team. This is opposed vehemently by City fans who conclusively vote 23-6 against in a poll conducted in the Manchester Evening News.
An emergency board meeting is convened to discuss with just two items on the agenda:
