Technology Explained
The Windows Vista Saga Continues: Finally your Techo has Windows Vista installed - on the laptop used to prepare this eZine! Our Harlequin relented after we installed Windows Vista Home Basic on her Mum's PC and the thought of trying to answer support queries when we don't have Windows Vista here finally tipped the argument in favour of upgrading Harlequin's laptop! Firstly, I ran the Microsoft Vista Upgrade Advisor which showed only a few potential issues with the installed programs, drivers and hardware. WRONG !!!! After the upgrade, to the top-of-the line Vista Ultimate, even some of Microsoft's own products - FrontPage 2002 for example - needed to be re-installed! The biggest GOTCHA found so far is the complete loss of synchronisation between mobile devices running Windows Mobile 5.0 or less! The result is your expensive iPAQ PDA becomes a paperweight that you can play Solitaire or Bubblebreaker on!! Same goes for your smart-phone - not so smart!! Other than that, well, we'll wait and see. Next month, we'll visit the reasons why Harlequin's Mum needed to change to Vista - an enlightening tale.
The Windows Vista Saga Continues: Finally your Techo has Windows Vista installed - on the laptop used to prepare this eZine! Our Harlequin relented after we installed Windows Vista Home Basic on her Mum's PC and the thought of trying to answer support queries when we don't have Windows Vista here finally tipped the argument in favour of upgrading Harlequin's laptop! Firstly, I ran the Microsoft Vista Upgrade Advisor which showed only a few potential issues with the installed programs, drivers and hardware. WRONG !!!! After the upgrade, to the top-of-the line Vista Ultimate, even some of Microsoft's own products - FrontPage 2002 for example - needed to be re-installed! The biggest GOTCHA found so far is the complete loss of synchronisation between mobile devices running Windows Mobile 5.0 or less! The result is your expensive iPAQ PDA becomes a paperweight that you can play Solitaire or Bubblebreaker on!! Same goes for your smart-phone - not so smart!! Other than that, well, we'll wait and see. Next month, we'll visit the reasons why Harlequin's Mum needed to change to Vista - an enlightening tale.
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The Tattoo. (A short story from TB Jackson serialised in this magazine. This month - Part 4)
"When did you have that done?"
"A-about a month ago." he once again stuttered.
"And it already looks like shit. When will you young blokes learn? Go down and see Fat Bob and he’ll fix that for you. Tell him Billy sent you. He'll know who you mean." The bus pulled up to a stop and Billy stood. "You know who Fat Bob is?"
"Yeah I've heard of him. I'll go and see him tomorrow." The young kid seemed pretty excited about the prospect of a real tattoo.
"No worries mate." Billy replied "He's as good as they come." As he turned to walk down the isle the driver began yelling.
"Come on. Get out. It's your stop. Bloody bikers. You're all the same. Drugged up. Don't know what day it is half the time. Come on, I've got work to do, you know. Not like you bludgin' bastards. Where's ya Harley anyway? Broken down I bet! He let out a big belly laugh, looking around the bus for support, but instead he found a dozen pairs of glaring eyes, angry with his outburst.
"Yeah righty-o man. Settle down. What's up your arse?"
The bus was quiet now and as Billy walked down the isle he looked around at the passengers. There was the office girl, still not home from the drudgery of her workday, the three young girls, wherever the hell they were headed, and the Asian tourists. They were all staring. Each of them nodded acknowledgement as he passed their seat. He clambered off the bus, dazed by the unprovoked attack from the driver.
When he arrived home it was getting on to 9.30 and he felt drained from the days activities and decided to skip food, have a quick shower to wash the new work and settle in for some much needed sleep.
Sleep didn't come easy however. His mind was running a thousand miles an hour. Eventually he slipped into a disturbed slumber and began to dream. The intensity was amazing and upon waking he could remember every little detail.
Bathed in perspiration he went to the bathroom to freshen up. As he washed his face he began to have visions of the dream. He remembered being in Fat Bob's shop getting another tattoo. This one, a mythical dragon being slain by a knight, was much more detailed and intense than anything he’d seen before. He recalled every sound, every movement, as though he was there in the flesh, playing out a scene from some medieval time long ago. He looked at the reflection in the mirror to see a drained, tired face, large bags under his eyes, appearing as though he’d gone sleepless for a whole year. He reached up to the medicine cupboard to find the cream for the new tattoos, and to his surprise the reflection of them in the mirror amazed him. They appeared to be totally healed, a process that normally took two to three weeks, maybe longer. There was no tenderness at all, nor any sign of dried blood although there appeared to be a drop of fresh blood dripping from the needle of the tattooed tattoo machine. He turned around, prompted by the memory of the dream and the reflection of his back sent his frazzled nerves into overdrive. The tattoo he'd dreamt of was there, large as life, and as healed as the other ones. But how the hell could that be? It didn’t make sense. He considered he must be still dreaming and jumped in the shower to try to get some clarity into his head. The water was warm and soothing but when he’d finished the unexplained artwork was still there. He decided he'd better get his arse into Fat Bob's.
"When did you have that done?"
"A-about a month ago." he once again stuttered.
"And it already looks like shit. When will you young blokes learn? Go down and see Fat Bob and he’ll fix that for you. Tell him Billy sent you. He'll know who you mean." The bus pulled up to a stop and Billy stood. "You know who Fat Bob is?"
"Yeah I've heard of him. I'll go and see him tomorrow." The young kid seemed pretty excited about the prospect of a real tattoo.
"No worries mate." Billy replied "He's as good as they come." As he turned to walk down the isle the driver began yelling.
"Come on. Get out. It's your stop. Bloody bikers. You're all the same. Drugged up. Don't know what day it is half the time. Come on, I've got work to do, you know. Not like you bludgin' bastards. Where's ya Harley anyway? Broken down I bet! He let out a big belly laugh, looking around the bus for support, but instead he found a dozen pairs of glaring eyes, angry with his outburst.
"Yeah righty-o man. Settle down. What's up your arse?"
The bus was quiet now and as Billy walked down the isle he looked around at the passengers. There was the office girl, still not home from the drudgery of her workday, the three young girls, wherever the hell they were headed, and the Asian tourists. They were all staring. Each of them nodded acknowledgement as he passed their seat. He clambered off the bus, dazed by the unprovoked attack from the driver.
When he arrived home it was getting on to 9.30 and he felt drained from the days activities and decided to skip food, have a quick shower to wash the new work and settle in for some much needed sleep.
Sleep didn't come easy however. His mind was running a thousand miles an hour. Eventually he slipped into a disturbed slumber and began to dream. The intensity was amazing and upon waking he could remember every little detail.
Bathed in perspiration he went to the bathroom to freshen up. As he washed his face he began to have visions of the dream. He remembered being in Fat Bob's shop getting another tattoo. This one, a mythical dragon being slain by a knight, was much more detailed and intense than anything he’d seen before. He recalled every sound, every movement, as though he was there in the flesh, playing out a scene from some medieval time long ago. He looked at the reflection in the mirror to see a drained, tired face, large bags under his eyes, appearing as though he’d gone sleepless for a whole year. He reached up to the medicine cupboard to find the cream for the new tattoos, and to his surprise the reflection of them in the mirror amazed him. They appeared to be totally healed, a process that normally took two to three weeks, maybe longer. There was no tenderness at all, nor any sign of dried blood although there appeared to be a drop of fresh blood dripping from the needle of the tattooed tattoo machine. He turned around, prompted by the memory of the dream and the reflection of his back sent his frazzled nerves into overdrive. The tattoo he'd dreamt of was there, large as life, and as healed as the other ones. But how the hell could that be? It didn’t make sense. He considered he must be still dreaming and jumped in the shower to try to get some clarity into his head. The water was warm and soothing but when he’d finished the unexplained artwork was still there. He decided he'd better get his arse into Fat Bob's.
Continues next month.
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