A trip to the sewage farm
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After last night’s late night there was little chance of us getting up early, and it was the heat that finally forced us out of bed. I set up my Linux box for Internet access while Paul read the papers. Rather annoyingly I still can’t work out how to get the Windows and Linux PCs to talk to each other, let alone share the cable modem, so Mr Wint (Linux) is having to use a modem while Mr Kidd (Windows) has the zippy cable all to himself.
Paul went home and I spent until lunchtime downloading Linux networking bits from Tucows, then drove round to his and on to Sandford Mill, which we’ve been past a hundred times on our canal path walks but never been in.
Why it’s called a mill, I don’t know. It’s actually an old sewage pumping station that’s been taken over by the Chelmsford and Essex Museum, which has turned it into a kind of science and conservation centre. They’ve got the old hut from which Marconi did the first radio broadcasts, and loads of geeky radio stuff that kept me distracted, but they really need to sort out their captions. One inside the hut said Dame Nelly Melba never sang on 2MT, another one outside said she did, and even had a picture of her in action.
We sat on the grass beneath a shady tree and ate ice lollies that dripped down the sticks and onto my socks. Raspberry and white cotton is a striking contrast, then motored round to my mum’s for a cup of tea, which kind of turned into more tea, then a barbeque and then desert, then more tea. Mum looked over my pension papers, but I think I need to see the advisor again. I don’t understand finance too well.
No Army and Navy tonight, which is a good thing, I think.
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