Wrong Lump of Metal

So today I turn up at the garage to pick up my shiny, nearly new, car. I have emptied the old car of around 40 cassettes, taken all the bits and pieces from the hidey holes in it and bade my farewells. I have all my documentation, money in the bank to pay for the new vehicle, and I'm quite looking forward to playing with it.

Then I'm told that I can't have my new car because the garage is unable to locate the log book for it. This is a fairly crucial document, in that it is the one that proves you really own the car. Without that you can't get a tax disk, another fairly crucial item which actually allows you to take the car on the road. Nobody is quite sure how the document got lost, or where it is, but everybody is sure that it means I can't have the car.

Oh dear. Big problem. The good news is that the garage works well in failure mode. I now have the use of a courtesy car (which is newer than "mine" but pretty much identical) until they can sort this out. I must admit to getting kind of cross, but in a "Oh dear, you have a problem, how are you going to make me happy?" kind of way, which seems to have worked.

Saying goodbye to a lump of metal

Is it normal to get worked up about mechanical things? I've had this car since new, for a sixth of my life. Tomorrow it goes away to be replaced by another one. I've got a lot of memories tied up in this lump of metal. When I got it the kids were much smaller and more inclined to do what I said. Now, not only do they not always follow instructions, but they are not usually even around to do that. The car has taken us three times round the world (not actually - driving across the Atlantic would have been a bit of a problem) and never let us down once.

And tomorrow, because it is old, it is being replaced. Today I took all the bits and bobs out of the various storage compartments, peeled the stickers off the windscreen that I need for work and dug out the handbook, still in its original folder. I also took a whole bunch of photographs of the thing. I will look back on my "Scenic era" as a great time in my life, here's hoping the next car is as reliable, and the times as good.

Meetings are good?

We had our mid-semester reviews today. These are when the staff and students get together and discuss how the course is going. All the staff responsible for the teaching drop by and find out how things are going. We've had these for a while, the idea is that we find out if anything is wrong when we are still in a position to do something about it.

Nobody complained about my jokes, which is good. Perhaps they've not figured out that they are jokes - and are busy revising them in case they turn up in an exam. Ho hum. Generally speaking things are fine, but some bits of one module have some of the students a bit bamboozled. No problem, a bit of arranging and we will have extra tutorials rolling for the group on Friday.

It is nice when something useful comes out of a meeting. One of the many reasons I like working at Hull.

What?

My invisible friend has disappeared again. I've looked for him everywhere. I went to the police to report him missing. They asked when I'd last seen him. I said never. They said I wasn't helping them much with their enquiries. Have you noticed how young policemen are looking these days? The way I see it, you can time travel into the past by looking at a baby policeman. Babies are cute. They are like little versions of people. But smaller. I used to be small. But that was a long time ago, when things in general were bigger.

I think it is time I went for a lie down.

Jane Eyre, Trapped

Had to rescue Jane Eyre today. She had got herself trapped in our telly in the kitchen. It ate the video and then refused to spit it out. It was a bad buy that telly. It went wrong just after the guarantee expired (I wonder how these devices know to do that) and I had a big fight with the supplier (no names - but Haley probably shopped there) to get it mended. Anyhoo, it broke again today in just the same way. A cassette got stuck inside and stalled the motors, causing the power supply to cut out.

This time there was no talk of repair. It was simply a matter of getting the tape out and then taking the whole thing to the tip (where I can mingle with all the rich and famous). There is something very liberating about taking something to bits without caring how to put it together again. I had the video out (undamaged) in ten minutes. The TV will never work again.

I used to know someone who worked in a TV repair shop. He had some lovely stories of upright, solid citizens who would bring in video players for repair because they had copies of "Swedish Chartered Accountant on the Job" or somesuch stuck inside them. He would make a special effort to be in the shop when the owner turned up to collect their mended machine, to describe how the tape had got stuck and hand back the video with a smile.