Tuesday, 10th October, 2006

Salt Of The Earth

So, about those chavs, yeah?

On Sunday, just after penning a rather SL-heavy day's worth of my usual tedium, I jumped in the car and set off for Harrogate. I mean, I know it was Sunday night and everything — and I've not started teaching on Sundays — it's just that I really needed to be in work around 9am to set up for stuff, based on last week's fiasco¹, so it's much easier for me to go over the night before than it is to get up at Stupid Fucking O'clock on a Monday morning.

Trust me — it makes sense.

On the way out of Lancaster, I figured I'd take the chance — seeing as I was in a petrol station after all — to accomplish one of the things that's been on my To Do List for quite some time — pump up my back tyres a little.

It's not that they've been flat, it's just that they've been a little disconcertingly soft for a bit.

"What does the air machine take?", I asked the woman on the pumps.

"It's free love"

Whoo hoo! Not only was I Getting Something Done™, I was getting it down for nowt!

"*la la la*" went I, as I chirpily dragged the hose to the back wheel, and shoved the nozzel on the end of my valve²

It was a few seconds later, disheartened by the lack of machine-whirring amd general Air Going In Tyre Action™ that I realised what was happening.

(a) The machine was broke. (b) I'd just let all of the air out of my tyre

Now, the more militant consumers amongst you would probably be expecting me to detail how I went back into the petrol station weidling some sort of self-assured confidence, demanding that someone somewhere Put This Right™

But I'm a wimp.

So I got in my car and headed a couple of miles up the road (wobbling dangerously around bends) knowing full-well that there's an air pump I can trust at the petrol station in Caton.

Except it was Sunday evening.

And it was shut.

So, two choices: either cross my fingers and hope to God that the garage in Melling would be open (doubtful), or find somewhere with a streetlight that I could whack my spare on.

...

As an aside, I was flicking through a few web pages the other day on a little quest to find out about troublesome head gaskets on a Fiat Cinquecento, when I came across a description of a Punto listing one of it's downsides as "having a spacesaver spare tyre — unpopular with the British"

Too fucking right.

Anyway.

...

With Ffr³ safely off the road at Claughton, hazzards blazing and me with several tools and whatnot strewn around the car, I set about changing the wheel.

Now the thing is yeah, I'm not that bad when it comes to cars. As an example, you know all that cylinder head gasket stuff I've been mentioning the past week or so — and the photographs of me looking 'grubby' (understatement)? Well, I fixed it. It ticks over like a dream. Granted I did it in a lot more time than it would have taken a garage, and I didn't get around to tuning a few things while I had the engine apart — but that's beside the point.

I Can Do OK When It Comes To Fixing Cars™

So changing a tyre should be a piece of piss, right?

You'd think so — but it helps if that tyre isn't welded on by some form of mystical Magic glue that only God HIMSELF can shift.

Seriously, I was sat there by the side of the road, tugging, kicking, rocking, coaxing the wheel, but the little fucker wouldn't budge. It was just at that moment that a Vauxhaul Nova pulled up...

...

Me, being the self-deluded fool, would like to think that the main reason that they stopped was because one of them saw me in the darkness and though "Aha! A Hot Chick™ who we can impress with our manly car-fixing skillz" — but that's most likely bollocks.

Whatever, three (as I would formerly call them) 'becapped estate monkeys' got out of the car, accompanied by their (as I would formerly call her) 'council-house face-lift' token chavette in tow.

"Need some help?"

"Aye. I guess yous are stronger than me. I can't get this wheel off"

("I guess yous are stronger than me." How fucking gay am I?)

They too tugged, and kicked, and rocked, and coaxed — to no avail. Until one of them said "How about climbing underneath and giving it a kick from behind?"

Bingo. Wheel came off (and landed on one of their toes)

...

Anyway: Long story, short — replaced flat tyre with crappy red thing. Drove happily to Harrogate (albeit with the strange sound of a spacesaver tyre in the background). All is well.

And my prejudices are well and truly challenged.

The nicest part, I think, was after they'd helped and were about to leave:

"Thanks guys, really. I'd be stuck without yous"

"Hey, no problem. I don't like seeing anyone break down in my village".

Let that be a lesson for us all

¹ Another long story: short — Last week I went to pick up equipment for the workshops with what I thought was "plenty of time", only to have to stand around waiting for half an hour while they sorted everything out. Put me in a right tizz that did. This week though, it was all waiting for me == one happy pre-workshop tranny.

² Ooh er, missus

³ That's what my car is called.

I Am A Crap Brother Sister

I'm sure he's got other things on his mind right now, but its my little brother's birthday today.

Bless him — he's only thirty two

I would have sent him a card, but it only dawned on me a day ago that I don't actually knwo where he lives And I'm pretty certain that if I write "Siobhan's Little Brother, Manhattan (I think)" on an envelope, it's not going to get to him at any point in the near future

I Probably Shouldn't Do This

I don't usually blog about things that happen at work. But this was too good not to pass on...

"So yeah, see what happens when I as the Mac to do too many things at once?"

"See, I've got a few layers going on, and a number of filters, and a transistion or two..."

"And THERE! There's a red line!"

"And if I try to play the sequence, it just says 'Unrendered', see?"

"OK, so what's happening here, is that I'm basically asking the Mac to do too many things at once, and what I need to do is give it a chance to catch up"

"So I go to 'Sequence -> Render All -> Both' — which let's it 'render' the moving images, effectively flattening it all into something it can play back to me with no problems"

"Anyway, just thought I'd mention that. I mean, these new iMacs are pretty good, but even they reach a point sometimes where you have to give them a few minutes to 'catch up' with you"

"And I know it might seem a pain sometimes to have to render stuff for a minute or so, but remember that when I was doing this back in '98, when I asked it to render, it told me it would take 48 days."

"Ha ha ha"

...

(Two minutes later)

...

"Siobhan?"

"Yes?"

"Why does my screen say 'Unrendered' when I try to play my movie?"