The Further Adventures of Rosamundi's Broadband Connection, Part II

Date: 27 November 2006 13:24:11

Or, "In which Bad Things Happen To Boys Who Tell Wicked Lies."

Yes, Mr BT "The exchange is now fixed and everything's working properly," Engineer, I'm talking to you.

I still have no Internet at home, and it's getting more than a little tedious. Going cold turkey from Ship addiction is no fun at all. Oh, and Bad Things Will Also Happen To My ISP, for being useless. A helpline that is only open from 9am to 6pm, when I leave for work at 8am at the latest and get home at 5:45pm at the absolute earliest, if I leave work bang on 5 and the Central Line is playing nicely, is no help at all. When everything's working, they're brilliant, but if it goes wrong, they're not. Can anyone recommend a decent broadband provider?

Or, "In Which I See The World Through The Lens Of My Camera. Again." Duckmeet. Yay, ducks! Quack, etc.

Follow the ducks!

Get all your ducks in a row.

We left Waterloo in frankly ghastly weather - see?

We're going on the Thames. Right under those horrible-looking clouds. In something that looks like an armoured bathtub on wheels. Oh deary me. The heavens opened, with vigour, malice and spite. Fortunately, the Duck Bus people had planned ahead and brought a great big umbrella, so we all huddled under it, occasionally quacking. Lovely weather for ducks, indeed. Our chariot arrived,

and we (20-something Weirdos Off The Internet™, and the remaining numbers made up by innocent members of the public. We're really very sorry, OK?) all piled aboard.

My borrowed duck complained she was too little to see out the window, even when I balanced her on my arm, so we rolled the plastic window up - I don't care if it's raining, I didn't pay £20 to stare at London through a plastic sheet.

They really do go on the Thames.

And they really do float. Rather low in the water, and with all the hydrodynamics of a bath, but they float.

Off we trundled down the Thames,towards the Mother of Parliaments, with some excellent commentary from a very funny bloke. Under the bridge we went.

My duck wanted to see if the view was any better from Persephone's shoulder.

Safely back on dry land, we went and invaded a restaurant for lunch, where Marvin received the Holy Spirit.

After lunch, the plan was to wander along to the Tate and then find a pub. I'm not sure doing Morecambe and Wise impressions is one of the Gifts of the Spirit.

To the Tate, to look at the slides,

then, in true Shipmeet fashion, after about 3 minutes of Culture, off we went to the pub to watch the sun go down on Old Father Thames.

And, when I accept my true destiny of Queen Empress of Everywhere and Benevolent Dictatoress of Everywhere Else, the first thing I shall do is enact a ban on putting de-alcoholised wine on sale where innocent people can pick it up by accident. It's Just Wrong.

[phew, fixed all my links) ;-)