Saturday, 14 February 2015

What a drip!

22 January 2015, 8 am

I walk through Paddington Station dripping Red Bull® behind me.  I had naively thought that Red Bull cans were water-tight but it appears not: I now have a rucksack full of the stuff which I am carrying on my back like a portable, slow-release saline drip, only stickier.  My papers are soaked, ditto my trusty London A-Z.  I have to buy a new rucksack, and then crouch in a corner of Accessorize® transferring the wet, sticky contents of the old one into the new one.  This is awkward to say the least.  I then wring out the old rucksack and hand it to a by now incredulous store assistant for disposal.

Quite apart from anything else, I am cross because I do not like sharing my Red Bull, much less distributing it amongst a station-full of strangers.  However, as I head off for Chancery Lane, trailing stickiness and Red Bull fumes wherever I go, I console myself with the hope that by the time I reach CIPA I will have a string of good-looking petrol-heads in my wake.  Fat chance.

At CIPA I find an ultra-excited Mr Davies playing with an ultra-fast new computer.  The new computer can open an email without having a long think about it first and questioning your motives.  Apparently many of the CIPA computers are slow because they are still trying to talk to old computers that are no longer in the network.  It is possible there are parallels here with Council.  In which case, there is hope for us yet.

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