I’m on another training course for the next few days, although we’ve been shunted out of the posh surroundings of the Lace Market Hotel into the old IBM building which is now mainly a rent a room job, probably by the hour. No not that sort of place, although the people in the room across from us do seem to be rolling around on the floor manhandling each other and with their lips locked together but I think it’s just a first aid course.
Today I’m studying HTML and CSS, who I thought were a band from São Paulo. It all goes well and now I know everything there is to know about internet development. We all head home to rewrite Google. We'll show those yanks how it's done. Beware the person who has been on a one day course and is now an expert.
L is horrified at the thought of my proposed search engine revamp, as she is rather fond of Google. Can't I redesign Twitter instead to make it useful? I'm not sure that's possible. That’s like redesigning a border collie to make it useful.
It’s back. That letter to a similar address of ours in Newark drops through our post box yet again. This time I rewrite the postcode in very big letters and repost it yet again. Fourth time lucky.
It’s Christmas Party night at dog training. Well not really, although L doesn’t believe me. It’s actually a normal serious training session just with chocolate and a touch of Secret Santa for the dogs.
(Monday 19th December)