Fact was, I couldn't access it.  Not just barred from the Admin side, but barred from everywhere.  (I still wonder how the spammers got to send their comments).  At the time I was in the middle of 18 months of hell.  Heavy workload coupled with family illness and worse.  Not a time for blogging and so I filed the thought in the 'Later' cabinet and got on with life.

Then last week I got a couple of reports of more spam comments and so I thought I'd better do something about it.

Now, the guy who looks after the technical backroom stuff is my best virtual (and probably real-world) mate, the sort I can have a laugh with, be serious with, take the piss out of and ask advice from.  Yet I didn't want to bother him with this problem as I know he has a life of his own other than being bothered by a lapsed blogger who hasn't written anything for 18 months or so.

Anyway, I eventually emailed him with my problem.  Did he care?  Did he tell me he was busy?  Did he promise to check it out sometime?  Hell, no!!  He only went and backed up the whole lot, upgraded the blog and got everything back looking better than before (this theme is much cleaner and fresher than the one I originally chose).  All within 24 hours of screaming for help.  Where else would I get a better response than that?

So thanks for sorting out my self-induced problem, Bill.  I really appreciate it, mate.

And I promise to be more regular in future ;-)

(I would say it's been a pleasure to be serviced by you, but that might get misconstrued)

My Aussie mate, Bill, has another birthday today. He had one last year - anyone would think he actually wanted to grow older.

And here it is. I know Bill enjoys biking. And I know he enjoys playing with goats. So what better than a smart biking shirt with extra usefulness?

Hope you had a great day, Bill!!

And hope you recover from it sometime tomorrow ;.)

The scene: 5.30 pm. Dark, cold, wet. End of a long day at work. Much traffic on the way home. Turning into the end of my street, big Mercedes and Range Rovers parked on the corner (handy for the Mason's lodge) so 12" either side of my car as I squeezed round the corner in first gear.

Changing up into second gear when WAP!!, a dog the size of a small pony leaped out in front of me from behind a parked car. I'd seen that dog before - very nice animal (something like a pale German Shepherd or a dark Husky) but rather alarming when announcing its presence in this way. I slammed my foot on the brake but, with my clutch already pushed down and half way through a gear change, I managed to rev the engine at the same time.

So startled (but unhurt) dog takes off up the street zig-zagging from road to path and back again. I followed it, parked outside my house and got out to check it was OK. At this point the four people with the dog approached me.

"Excuse me, but are you the man who hit our dog?"

"No, I'm the man whose car your dog jumped in front of. You should keep it on a lead."

"It's a trained dog."

"It's not very well trained if it runs round in the middle of the road in front of cars"

"It's a f**king trained dog!"

"No it isn't, and don't swear."

"I'll f**king swear at you if I want - you hit out f**king dog."

"OK, have it your way, but I'm going to see if your dog is alright."

"It had better f**king be."

"So, is it alright?"

"Does it f**king look alright?"

"Er, yes, it does."

"Look at its legs!"

"What about them?" I counted 4, which seemed about right.

"Well, look at them."

"I am looking. What's wrong with them?"

"I don't know. I'm not a f**king doctor."

Then they started calling their mates on their mobile phones and discussing what they were doing the next day. I was completely ignored. So I went home, reported to the police that I had not hit a dog and had my tea.

Then I thought about it. The four people with the dog were 13 or 14 years old. They knew no one would come out and tell them to shut their foul mouths up. They knew I wouldn't smack them round the ear else I would get arrested. They knew their dog was fine yet still ranted on as if I had murdered it (probably hoping I would stump up the cash for vet's fees). And be honest, who among us older than 30 would dare to speak to adults in that manner when we were their age?

I'm glad the dog was OK in the end. But if one of those kids runs out in front of me, I may just miss the brake pedal and hit the gas. I don't think I have to report running over a piece of scum to the police ...

Well, Xmas, obviously. The season of excess, when people start to show their true (and often not very welcome) feelings.

I hoped the one good thing to come out of the 2009 recession is for people to scale down the material side of Xmas and concentrate on the other things in life. But so far I'm not seeing it. "I want this. I want that. I must buy this for so-and-so." And all these things are not inexpensive items. Xmas has become a time to show true greed, to show the side of us that says 'I'm giving something expensive so I must be a better person'.

Rubbish!

Maybe I am a true Grouch. We decided not to do presents this year. Almost. Earlier in the year we treated ourselves to a new TV. We watch little TV but we invested in a flat screen HD unit, partly because the old set would need replacing when the UK switches to digital in 2012. And I got a deal on a posh hotel for a couple of nights after the big day just to get away from it all - walking in parks, exploring towns we have never visited, chilling out.

(Birthdays are a little different - we tend to push the boat out and get things neither of us would normally buy or oourselves - last year my nearly-wife got a laptop, I got to drive a Lamborghini).

But Xmas is the time for mass hysteria. The stores are closed for one day this year. At the local Asda, just round the corner, the car park has been jammed solid since Monday morning, traffic tailing back right along the entrance lane, out onto the road and back to God knows where. The 24 hour opening has been shrunk to 22 hours to allow the shelves to be re-stocked.

I walk round at work and hear people saying 'I asked for this, I asked for that, I spent £200 on food yesterday and still haven't finished, I want to win in the works raffle.' (Incidentally, I won a bottle of wine. I don't drink. I gave it to the young lady in the office whose mother will love it.)

And the nicest thing about Xmas for me up to now? My best mate, Bill, rang me out of the blue. At 5.30 am on Monday. To wish me a happy Xmas. Bill lives in Australia and we have never met, but he's a great character, we have some great laughs in an online forum, we can talk seriously if we need to and I would trust him with anything. Everything a best mate should be.

And there he was on the end of the phone, wishing me a happy holiday. Telling me what he plans to do on the 25th. Just saying 'Hi, I'm here and I remembered you'.

What a fantastic start to the week! And I ask, isn't that what Xmas is really all about?

Have a great day, Bill, and enjoy the barbie!

And Happy Holidays and a Happy 2010 to all

Happy ending to a short story? Well no, if I consider the hoops I had to jump through to get there.

I diagnosed the motherboard was the problem, so I set out to order a new one online (fortunately my spare system was connected). So it was off to my favourite online dealer. Found a new board at a reasonable price and popped it in my shopping basket.

But my processor wouldn't fit the new board (it's rather old), so I searched out a new one. In the basket it went.

Oh, and I needed some more modern memory, so that went into the basket of another online dealer. That was fine but the pennies were starting to add up now.

While I was at it I also popped a new power supply in the (now rather heavy) basket as the original one had a rather noisy fan. And that was it. All I needed to do was pay up and wait for the postman.

Yeah, right. Before I made my purchase I needed to log in. Email address? Fine. Password? On the dead computer. Bother!! Enter email address and request a password reset.

Message arrives with a link to the password reset screen, which I go to. "This link has expired. It is only valid for 24 hours". What??! Less than 3 minutes had gone by and it had expired. So I rang Customer Service.

"We're closed at the moment due to the Bank Holiday. Please try again tomorrow". What Bank Holiday? The last one was over 5 weeks ago. So I used my head. I created a new account.

And that worked fine until I selected the delivery address. As this was my first purchase (it wasn't) then delivery could only be made to the credit card holder's address. Which meant I would be out when it arrived. And sure enough, I arrived home at 2 minutes to 6 and UPS had called at 7 minutes to 6. And UPS wouldn't redirect. Aaaarggghhhh!!

As luck would have it the parcel was delivered the next day while I was in, so all ended happily.

And the fact that the new power supply looked like it came out of a nuclear power station of the future - stove enamelled case, mesh round the leads for protection, top quality power connectors (about 30 of them) - is neither here nor there. It works silently. So I'm happy.

And next time I'll make sure I know my password before I order.

A bit of background. The previous Friday I started comeing down with a viral infection. I woke at 2.30 am Monday and couldn't get back to sleep. I had worked a full day then got the weekly shopping in the evening. When the phone rang I was three parts through shoving a little food down my throat (no appetite, I just wanted to live longer). I was not in the best of moods.

Then the phone rang and my mood was about to change. For the worse.

"Hello, am I speaking to Steve?"

"Yes."

"Pardon?"

"YES."

"Oh good! I've got a very special offer for you at the FeelingGood Gym."

"I don't want it."

"Pardon?"

"I. DON'T. WANT. IT."

"I don't want to join a gym."

"Pardon?"

At this point I'll miss out the 'pardon?' after every reply. There was nothing wrong with the speed and volume of her mouth but her ears never got close to being as efficient. Suffice to say she should see if there are special machines at the gym to ream earholes out.

"I said I don't want to join a gym. If I did I would have already joined one. I don't and I haven't."

Silence.

"Why don't you want to join?"

"Well, why should I pay a monthly fee when I can do all the exercises I need for free in my own way."

"Many people think they are exercising properly but they don't get their heart really working."

"I do."

"Oh? And what exercises do you do?"

"I go walking."

"Walking? Pah!! Walking isn't exercise! It doesn't get your heart working faster!"

And that did it. A few years ago I asked my GP what he recommended for exercise, bearing in mind jogging was out due to previous injuries. 'Walking', he replied, '60 minutes, as brisk as you can manage, 3 times a week'. Which I duly started doing. And I can tell you walking at a rate of 120 paces a minute uphill certainly gets the heart (and every muscle in the legs) working.

I started to explain this to the lady on the phone when it all clicked into place. This jumped up little upstart who was allegedly in the business of helping to improve people's health and fitness was not only laughing at my pathetic attempts to keep fit but also blatantly lying to me about what does and does not constitute exercise. She had the sheer bloody nerve to invite herself into my own front room (by virtue of ringing me in the first place) only to insult me and tell me bare faced lies. So I made a short reply.

"Forget it. I don't want to know. Now please piss off and don't ever ring me again."

Normally I use a polite 'No thank you and goodbye' before replacing the reciever. Had I been feeling better I might have asked if she wanted to study for 14 hours a week over a year for the Open University, in an attempt to make her see that other people may not share the same passions we do. My solution was easier, quicker and (at the time) more satisfying.

But my tea was cold when I had finished. And I was really pissed off for the whole of the next day.

If people cold call me then I expect them to be polite and civil. I have done then the courtesy of answering the phone. The least they could do is take 'No' for an answer.

Now, however, things are changing. Some parts of the business are booming, other parts are a little slack and so we have been forced to reduce the working week to 4 or 4.5 days for about half our people. We signed a personal agreement to that effect as we could see the sense in it. The company could have been a lot harsher and more restrictive but it has always prided itself on looking after its workers, and the present situation is no different.

And two people refused to accept this (temporary) agreement. They think the company should do more. They think they should be fully employed regardless of the availability of work. They feel hard done by.

So what should we have done? Let them sit at home on their fat arses all day whilst still drawing full pay> Got rid of two other workers so they could remain in full time employment? Show them the order books, company accounts, let them interview the directors and management?

Sadly, UK law forbids the use of hot irons and black, rusty pincers. Because thet's what I would like to use to make them see sense.

Most people are glad of a job, glad of the continuity of employment and appreciate that things will return to normal as soon as they possibly can.

Again, it is the case of the minority spoiling things for the majority. What they don't seem to understand is that their attitudes will be remembered for a long time ...

Yes, it's that time again when a man's thoughts turn to pondering life, the universe and everything. Or in Bill's case, probably having a small glass of wine.

Which rather neatly brings me to the Virtual Gift. Ever since Bill sent me a jewel-encrusted pot of Vaseline for a present I have tried (and failed) to outdo him. So I thought this year's Virtual Present should be something to blend in with his character and lifestyle.

So have a Great Day today, Bill, and here's to beer and sheep wherever they may be! (Hiding, if they have any sense!)

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Cheers!!