Bellerophon symbol, variation 7 jonath.co.uk
Saturday 1st January 2011

Fairy Steps. Concessionary path?!
img_6334.jpgimg_6338.jpg Oh look, it's the first day of 2011 (prime number!). How exciting. So, we (that is, the four of us, plus Mouse and Simon, who had stayed over the previous night) went for a walk to the Fairy Steps, somewhere in the Yealands (?!). This very well spoken elderly lady, out walking on her own, asked us if we knew where the 'concessionary path' was. Once she had found her 'concessionary path', we were like, "What the hell's a concessionary path? Who speaks like that?" But anyway, we wandered along the concessionary path and found a few cute little dens, obviously far too big for adults but perfect for A****** and R******.

Sunday 2nd January 2011

A slightly delayed family get-together
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I think M****** took all these pictures; she just told me to dump 'em, as is. So, apart from rotating a few, that's exactly what I did. The only ones I deleted were two I took that were all misty. The camera had been in the car overnight, you see, and the temperature differential caused a load of condensation to form on the lens.

Saturday 15th January 2011

Reading in bed
img_6361.jpg A moment of calm. We're having a lazy Saturday morning (and why the hell not?) and so, after breakfast, we grab a stack of books and read to the boys. A****** is well into reading, though, and so will often just read books to R******. This is one of those rare moments where they're just sat there, paying attention, being quiet and calm. There's an accompanying video to go with this somewhere.

Sunday 16th January 2011

Another walk in the Lakes (High Dam?!)
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Sunday 23rd January 2011

A quick walk around Clougha
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Friday 28th January 2011

DIY USB pen drive fixing things stuff
img_6403.jpg Okay. So. Picture the scene. M******'s gone out. I'm at home, 'baby-sitting'. I'm not really hungry. I'm onto my fourth can of Kronenbourg. There's nothing on the television (or, even if there was, I'm not really that interested). I'm bored of watching 'Lebanon'. Nothing much happening on the internet . . . all boring, boring, boring. I even resort to doing all the washing up. I even clean the bread board (or whatever you wanna call it - a two-inch thick circular slab of wood) and turn it over. So what now? Of course! Fix the USB pen drive thing that M****** tried to destroy by ramming the hoover against it. So, I did a bit of spammy soldering, got a bit carried away with the glue-gun and thought to myself, surveying this 'thing', img_6406.jpg "What's the chances of this thing working, given that there seems to be a short circuit between earth and one of the outer pins? Hmmmm. I reckon about 5%." So, I plug it in, notice a kind of red glowing on the circuit board and then my computer's like, "Hey, there's some kind of USB storage device thing plugged in. Whaddaya wanna do?" And, of course, I'm like, "Can I browse the files on it?" and it complies. It's all there. All the files I copied onto this USB pen drive, they're all there, intact. So I'm amazed. These things are pretty damn resilient. Anyway, long story short: this pen drive was lent to me by one of my father's friends. The mission: copy off any train-related (Cumbrian Railway Association, of which I think my dad was sometimes secretary) material and put it onto the pen drive. I did the copying, but then M****** had the accident with the hoover. I had to buy Peter a new pen drive, and now I'm copying off material from 'broken' pen drive to new identical pen drive.

Saturday 29th January 2011

erm . . . where the hell are we?!
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Sunday 30th January 2011

The metallicity of the Sun is approximately 1.8 percent by mass
img_6417.jpgimg_6416.jpg I can't remember too much about today except we went over to Halton for lunch with Simon, Becky, Helen and Stu. Afterwards, we went for a walk along the Lune, R****** lagging behind somewhat. This was kind of a belated family Christmas-stylée lunch for Becky and Simon, as they were on their honeymoon during all the Christmas shenanigans. At least I think that was the idea . . .