Anyhoo (yes "anyway" was already taken).

Well that was fun.

I think I'm beginning to prefer Blogger's Next Blog button over Blogexplosion. As at least when I hit a chain of foreign language blogs, I can't understand enough to notice how many times the words "fluffy" and "cute" are used. Although possibly the incessant pink and furball pictures might suggest a certain frequency.

As for the ardently right-wing American blogs, well, some people might take the comments about nuking all the mofos [but being God-fearing Americans, they spell out the words with asterisks over the vowels. God obviously has never been very good at crosswords] to include them, which I guessing they wouldn't be too keen on. Unless they are one of the group who think the Rapture [no, not the Scandirock band] is fun for all the family.

As for people who discuss Christmas shopping in November, now they ought to be nuked (this can be taken as an indication that I haven't started, but I'm one of those odd people for whom Christmas is bounded by Advent and Twelfth Night, and even then it usually only kicks into existence on about the 23rd).

It does not help the woman compounds her heinous crime by using the phrase "Lego's rock" and "Thomas the train". Argh! Lego is Lego. It's like fish, sheep and other such nouns, in that it can be both singular and plural. Although what the hell is a single Lego anyway? A brick, a set, what? There's no need for the "s" and I'm not quite sure what the apostrophe is doing there [I know it's because Legos would seemed odd, but there are other ways round that, should one choose to go round it].

"Thomas the Train"? Heathen. Read the books (you did know there were books, didn't you?). He's Thomas the Tank Engine, with Annie and Clarabel as the carriages. Next you'll be telling me about Thomas and the Magic Railroad. A. It's a railway. B. Magic? Why?

Look, the television series with Ringo Starr is just about on the bounds of acceptability, but "Choo-Choo, Peek-A-boo"? Sodor off.

In the category of "I don't get it". Do you? As far as I'm concerned Johnnie Walker is whisky.

[Much swearing]. Firefox just went crump. Starting it back up, and I've got a box asking me to pick the profile I want to use. There's only the default one, which is the one I was using. I can't use it, as it is in use. Damn, I thought they'd fixed this. I remember when I first got this fault when I originally got Firefox [on a different computer]. However I can't remember how I fixed it that time. Firefox's help is no use, as it doesn't even mention profiles. The online help tells me to open the Profile Manager from the Start menu. I remember this, as the Profile Manager shortcut has never existed in any installation of Firefox which I've known. I can't even find the manager file in program files. But fortunately this time round I deselected the "don't ask on start-up" option, which appears on the initial start up.

I remember there was something about swapping nonsensically named files, but I can't remember which they were. I also have a hunch that that only caused yet more problems. Why didn't I write down what I did?

So what do I do? I can get a functioning browser [having tweaked the settings in the new profile], but all the adaptions I've made are gone, including all the Bookmarks. And will I be able to find them all again? Um, well let's put it like this: who in the days of speed dial [and voice activated dialling] remembers the phone numbers of everyone contact in their phone? I get as far as knowing if it is an 01, 02, or 07 number.

All of which means that this is what is technically known as an arse.

I can't even use my normal cop-out option when something goes wrong and I can't fix it, because that option is to go for a walk, and of course we're currently enjoying that most glorious of weathers: sleet.

I doesn't help I know I've got to pick up something from town at 4, by which time I will have sorted out my washing [or some of it], and I've also just discovered that a friend has left a message on the answer-phone saying "ring me on [local number]". Which means she'll expect me to appear at some point, hang round waiting for god knows what, ferry her and her family about, and there goes the weekend. The weekend in which I was planning on sorting out stuff for next week, as I'm getting shunted off to work somewhere else [with no parking]. But hey, at least her "It's me, ring me" message has a phone number this time, and the phone number suggests she'll be around. Still, I have no idea when she left the message. Still sorting out other stuff, so haven't actually rung back yet.

So I've got to figure out how to get there. Car park A costs X per day, plus walk, but gets full by about 8 am; Car park B costs 1/2 X, bigger, unlikely to fill, but bus [included in price] and longer walk; Bus 1 costs unknown, short walk to, long walk from, not frequent; Bus 1 plus 2, costs more than Bus 1, no idea on frequency or timing; Bus 3, short walk to, shortish walk from, no idea on cost, but there's only one before work, it takes 50 minutes to cover a 20 minute journey, and cuts it a bit fine when it arrives. The buses are cheaper if I buy a season ticket. The season ticket can only be bought from the bus station. The bus station is in the town I'm working in, but not near where I work, and not on the way there. Bus information services are always wrong, and that is when they are not telling you to travel via Birmingham [it cannot find the bus station, but it can find a road with the same name, in Birmingham. I checked the listings for the town, and there is no bus station]. Train, 2 or 3 an hour, it's autumn so the timing is always dire, probably more than bus, long walk to, long walk from.

I think I'm going for the drive, bus, walk option, as it's the cheapest [ignoring the cost of the car, as I already have it, and it needs using]. Also it's the one that gets me closest by my own means, but which doesn't mean I might end up driving round the town trying to find a parking space.

I'm still dreading trying to find my way through the pedestrianised bit round the office. It's on a hill, and everything is built in the same concrete and brick. I tried exploring round there, and it's all right angled paths, masses of steps, and alleys through buildings. Some of the alleys are the main thoroughfares, and some turn out to be fire-escapes and dead ends. It is a stunningly awful combination of the worst of sixties architecture and experimental design in urban planning. It is one of those places that to get to B from A, when standing in front of A and facing B, the proper route is to turn round, walk round the back of C, turn right, enter D, go up the fire stairs, turn left, then right, go into the second corridor, turn right, cross the pedestrian bridge, go up half a flight of stairs, along the corridor, and descend through building E, walk back out into the rain round 3 sides of F, and enter B. I ended up walking round the service road, as it was the only distinguishing feature. I think part of what annoys me about that place is the way all the paths hug the rectangular buildings (the terrain makes off-roading difficult), so everything is an erratic series of straight lines and 90^o turns, but without the connected and intuitive benefits that a grid pattern gives. And I don't like grid patterns [Having had a slight issue in one town where the signs at each junction were all on the same pole, only some were perpendicular to the street they referred to, and some weren't. So I could never know if it was pointing down Wherever Street, or if Wherever Street was the road that ran underneath the sign].

But I had better stop worrying about what hasn't happened yet.

Moving onto stuff that might reaffirm my faith in mankind. Ok, my potential faith in mankind.

On the Culture Show [erratic trundle through anything they feel like. It doesn't help the linking presenter leans towards his autocue, and never quite manages to give the impression that it he isn't reading] of Thursday they had a section on a man who designed a bridge [and a big spiky thing up north]. That man is Thomas Heatherwick, he of the "b of the Bang". The bridge is in Paddington basin. I had heard something about it before, but I hadn't been paying attention, so I don't know what was said other than where it was. I think I should have been playing attention. That's one very funky bridge.

The designer gave the usual spiel about the ugliness of the normal version of whatever [in this case talking about footballers with broken legs], but if one ignores the blurb it was pretty stunning, and really good idea. When the bridge is in the lowered position, it looks fairly nondescript, and a bit like a Bailey bridge. However, at the press of a button, hydraulic cylinders placed like pilasters start to elongate. The bridge is segmented, with the cylinders anchored on the hinges in the floor panels. The hand rail hinges at the other end of the cylinder, but it also is pivoted over the middle of the floor panel. So when the cylinders extend, the handrail concertinas and as it does so, curls the bridge up around it. The end result is an octagon of rolled up bridge, like a wood louse [although the wood louse would be flat on its back when the bridge is down].

It's a stunning idea, and wonderful piece of engineering. My only worry is that it might be too clever for its own good, and might have too many pieces to go wrong. I'm also surprised that it is only over a small dock which appears to have lost all function, except as a space between office buildings. But on the whole, from what I've seen, I think it's brilliant. It was almost worth having Mariella Frostup presenting to see it.

And this is the point where I realise that because Firefox crashing, I've now lost the bookmark for the only interesting blog I found via Blog Explosion.

Anyhoo,