Here is where I had lunch on Tuesday, and froze half to death texting this picture to everyone...Here is my significant other...And here, by popular demand, is your author, in the first public pose for some years
Showing off your pics isn't as intuitive as it was in the olden days of black paper photo albums and gummed corners. A fraction of the travail is in the post below. It's not been easy, but - as I say there - you're worth it.
Or rather, it would be if I could only get it to you.
Yes, that's right. I've decided that what this blog lacks is pictures. We used to do a load, but of late there've been quite nada
Pictures on Naked Blog have quite a history. In the olden days, we would browse around the place, typically on the BBC site, right-click one of their pics and then Save, thus breaking every copyright law invented, but so quick and convenient with Microsoft. Then there would follow a laborious process called FTP, which needed an FTP client, and was really all a bit scary. You renamed the photo, which was now called a file
, and uploaded it to your blog host.
Then you had to learn enough HTML to "call" the photo onto your page, with instructions beginning "img src = " etc. You would stipulate things like size and border, and when you'd finished all that, just had to open your wallet and pay the enormous excess traffic charges your ISP demanded. These were typically 30 quid a month, which I'm still paying to this day. Oh yes, never underestimate my love and care for you.
This all comes about, by the way, because I went on a spiffing walk in the Pentlands yesterday, and took some rather nice photos (how I hate
the word IMAGES) photos you might enjoy seeing. You might also enjoy reading about the walk, and the troubles and travails, and the fascinating people I chatted to, and all the usual stuff. You might enjoy those, but you're not getting to, as I've more pressing tech stuff to bore you with first.Flickr!
Yes, all the above changed in a moment, once I discovered Flickr. This (initially free, but then the usual) service stores your pics for you and even gives you a user-friendly FTP client called Flickr Uploadr. Drag and drop. Uploading is free! Calling down onto your blog is free! No more ripoffs to ISPs! And the Lord saw that it was good. Until today, when surprise, surprise I tried to do all that and found I'd not got a scooby what my Yahoo login was. (Flickr is now owned by Yahoo, in an analogous way to Blogger being owned by Google. There's simply no escape.)
Oh, I can't go on with this.... I'm losing the will to live and it's a nice sunny day but I have to work. More very soon, of a non-tech nature. Because you're worth it.(Blogger are discontinuing their FTP service this month, which might mean the end of Naked Blog, incidentally. Apparently it's no longer business-efficient to provide the facility.)
Slept badly last night, and feeling guite rough now. Slept badly last night because of electronic pollution, namely a bur-loop
(omg it's just happened again) sound. Bur-loop
Not loud, not threatening, but more than enough to wake me.
It's the new iPhone, I thought, it's reached 100 percent charge. But no. Still a mere 86 percent. More awake than ever now, so reluctantly back to kip. Three times I think it happened overall. Phone charge creeping higher but still not there.
Maybe it's the landline, I thought then, as it has a persistent warning which has caught me out on several overnighters. But no. It was languishing in its cradle, unused as ever, but seeming charged. (No-one phones you much when you're over sixty. You get used to it. Even come to like it. A phone which rings only every couple of months is a threatening item indeed.)
Then another brainwave. Maybe it's the walkie-talkie set I bought some months back from Lidl, so that Stewart and I might not get lost on mountains with no signal. Unsignalled mountains. Yes, that's it. Due to complete lack of use they're running down. But no. When I remembered how to switch them on, they too were on full battery.
Strange. I'll report back to you. So sleepy. A man could go mad with occasional bleeps.Sporting Health
Caught a few minutes of the Federer-Murray tennis match yesterday morning by accident. (My views on watching other people do sport are well documented and bear no repetition.) But I was struck by how gaunt Murray looked, almost to the point of illness. They're really just animated sandwich boards, these people... Murray punting Adidas, Highland Spring and Royal Bank of Scotland on his shirt. Yet when he sat (omg I've just had the bur-loop
again, and it's not any phone or walkie talkie as I've moved them to another part of the room for elimination. What am I going to do?) when he sat I noticed he was clearly demonstrating the Evian label on his bottled water. It's just a marketplace, sport.
Anyway, I got to thinking of some quotes I read from Andre Agassi's book, how his joints are ruined by the years of "stopping on a dime". And I recalled reading how footballer David Beckham sometimes can't get out of bed without first taking painkillers. So I resolved to extend my mantra of Doctors make you worse
to include now Sport makes you worse.
Some day I might be able to write here: sitting on the couch smoking cigarettes makes you better.
Who knows? Health advice changes as fast as hemlines.