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Week 258: A day in the Cotswolds

In positive news, no one tried to kill me this week.

Our Christmas tree was delivered, but then sat naked for most of the week. On Sunday I dug out some Christmas CDs and cooked while L— did most of the decorating. It now looks very festive.

I spent a day in the Cotswolds to discuss some potential contract work. Cirencester is a very bougie town – it has an Aga shop, for example, a sure sign of people with more money than sense – but it doesn’t have its own railway station. Instead, you have to take a train to Kemble, a small hamlet a couple of miles up the road. The station is a rather desolate stretch of platform surrounded by car parks, but it does at least have a fast direct train from London.

Yes, of course it’s Beeching’s fault.

More news on the work in due course, I hope.

London is full of public transport amateurs at the moment. I assume they’re in town for Christmas. They gawp and stare and crowd and block the doors as if it’s their first day out in the world, and perhaps it does feel like that for visitors from Carland.

Quite a few links this time:

Older

  • Week 257: Near death experience

    As I crossed the road at Holborn at the weekend, I was nearly trampled to death by a horse.

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  • Week 256: 0x30

    There’s something pleasing to me in the fact that my 10016th weeknotes coincide with my 3016th birthday (in base 16 if that’s not clear).

    More …

  • Week 255: Books aren’t waterproof

    I met some old colleagues from my time at the Ministry of Justice – ten years ago now, in those halcyon days before Britain decided to punch itself in the balls – for dinner at Tokyo Diner in the West End.

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  • Week 254: Bridge-building

    I spent Monday making and fitting a bridge to the mandolin I’ve been repairing. I’d originally intended to use the laser cutter for the outline, but there were no times free so I did it by hand with a coping saw and carving knife. It probably didn’t take much longer, because the part that takes ages is setting the height. If it’s too tall, it’s difficult to play. But if it’s too short, it won’t even make a clear note. And once you’ve made it shorter, you can’t make it taller again.

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Older entries can be found in the archive.