Sunday, 30 March 2014

The Curse of Mother's Day


Maybe it's the curse of Mother's Day, but everything I try to bring up on the computer today either appears in an unreadable form, or it doesn't appear at all. I have tried to take a peek at a few of your latest posts, but the screen goes grey and lies to me by saying that Safari cannot find the server.

Like the way that more people die in British hospitals at weekends than weekdays - because those highly-paid consultants do like their golf and fishing - our internet buggers itself up more on Sundays than any other, and one gets the impression that all those little glitches that are normally fixed by a team of geeks within minutes on Monday, set off alarm bells which continue right through the weekend and go unheard until all the geeks get back from their 48 hours off.

Now I am beginning to think that our local internet server is manned by the Women's Institute, and they are all being taken out for roast dinners by their doting, middle-aged sons and daughters. I hope there were enough daffodils to go round.

I have considered - briefly - the idea of buying my own server and doing away with the fees charged by mine host in Gloucester, saving about £120 a year for an outlay of about £1000.

As far as I can tell, inside these little, briefcase-sized gizmos is enough space to fill ten Albert Halls. My needs would only take up about one shoe-box, so it would be very tempting to rent out some of the rest of it to friends and cover the cost of the initial purchase.

Then I think about all the grief I would get should I fail to pay the electricity or phone bill, and how I would get blamed for every crap website designer's slick-looking sites which haven't had the gremlins ironed out of them, and decide against it.

It would also be like having to try and make sure that the fifty dogs I would have as virtual pets inside this compact but adorable city apartment are all taken care of if H.I. and me decide to go on a week's holiday.

No, I am going to leave it to the Women's Institute to take care of all those cutsie kitten and handy recipe posts - at least they are only away for a few days of the year, like Christmas and Mother's Day and they like kittens and recipes a lot more than I do. As I write this, Blogger has collapsed again and I don't know if you'll ever get to read it. The horror. The horror.

My friend with one of these servers asked me how much I paid for hosting the other day, and when I told him, he said he could provide the same service for £30 per year.

This sounded very attractive at the time, and I asked him for his mobile phone number so I could discuss it with him, having talked it over with H.I. who is the only one with a dedicated website in this household.

"If you call me," he said, "leave a message to begin with so I know you are not the bailiffs trying to get in."

Another reason to leave the hosting to a company who probably have enough funds to pay the bills without a court-order.

39 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Why don't they sell cakes any longer? At the risk of sounding UKIP, it's probably due to some E.U. legislation about health and safety.

      Delete
  2. Mind you don't bring the wrath of the W I down on your head, jam, jerusalem and mother's day not excepted.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I had a lot of respect for them when they booed Tony Blair off the stage.

      Delete
  3. Why not take a whole packet of headache pills. It might help.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Who needs Heron with followers like you?

      Delete
  4. Interesting - it never occured to me that the fault of lazy internet - yes, we have problems at weekends with it too - may have the reason that those servers have not enough staff. I always thought that too many people in our area have time to use their internet at the week-end. However: wouldn't you explain your visual riddle today? Sky with sun and clouds - but the black part? Knowing your posts by now a bit, it might be a - surprise.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I like to think that the faults of the weekend internet are caused by old lady volunteers.

    As to the riddle, go back to the last post to see what it was. I told you that you would kick yourself. I am expecting Rachel to kick me, Arsenal style.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. A bell my foot. Do you really expect me to believe that.

      Delete
    2. Did you mean "A 'ball' my foot", you terrace hooligan, you? Go ahead, so long as it's not one of mine.

      Delete
    3. No I didn't. I am sick of you referring to football whenever I say anything. Have a drink.

      Delete
    4. It's just like two hormonal crocodiles at mating time....snapping at each other's tails

      Delete
    5. ...or balls, in her case.

      Anyway, I am glad you are sick of me referring to football every time you say anything, Rachel, and I really don't mind if anyone refers to drink every time I say anything remotely as confrontational as the comments you cannot stop yourself from making on my blog.

      I call it a job well done, and with hardly any effort on my part at all. Like I said, keep up the vitriol - it would be boring without it.

      Delete
    6. This comment has been removed by the author.

      Delete
    7. Ha! Just looked you up - so it IS you. How are you, and how are the rest of the girlies? I haven't seen Alex for a while, apparently because I sent her an obscene text about 10 years ago, though I have no memory of doing so. Probably the drink...

      Delete
    8. Just deleted the comment above the above, as names were mentioned... Hopefully you saw my Sherlock work before I took it down.

      Delete
    9. Yes, I thought it was absolutely brill .

      Delete
    10. What are you talking about?

      Delete
    11. Ok, one small question (he said, just before he left). How did you come upon my blog? Was it mistaking my name for the one which is right at the top of every search for the footballer with the same name, or was it more to do with a past reference to Verily?

      Delete
    12. It was a mistake whatever.

      Delete
  6. This could be a masters' thesis problem for an MBA program: can there be a reliable ISP for an island nation the size of the state of Ohio? Describe in detail, paying especial attention to cost effective delivery of service to a certain small but charming Bath apartment.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Provide the funding for this research, and I will happily oblige. I don't need the qualification.

      Delete
    2. Well, I might NEED it, but I couldn't use it.

      Delete
  7. You have been blocked by lots of folk.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Quote "I have tried to take a peek at a few of your latest posts, but the screen goes grey and lies to me by saying that Safari cannot find the server."
    Ha, ha, ha !

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, I see what you are suggesting. Sorry, but I went back to those sites later, and - guess what? - I was allowed back in again. It was, as I describe above, all to do with confused old ladies like yourself.

      I am only aware of being blocked once, though there may have been other times which I did not notice due to lack of interest and/or concern.

      The mother of a 16 year-old blocked me from her daughter's site when the daughter asked for opinions of some fashion art-work she had posted up, and I gave it. She was trying to protect her baby from constructive advice.

      Moral: Never give your mother the password to your blog.

      Delete
  9. Blogger is probably jammed up with all 712 of John's followers.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. ... all jamming Auntie Glad's switchboard....

      Delete
    2. I can't help being loved by millions

      Delete
    3. Sorry, I meant neither is Heron.

      Delete
    4. I man very grateful for all of the Publicity !

      Delete
    5. I shall have to water down my water with more whisky as it is efecting my shelling

      Delete
    6. And I am grateful for the comments hit count, boosted by your shelling, Heron.

      Delete