Blackberry Blues

Today's flight back to Malaga was punctual and uneventful apart from a brief bout of turbulence over the Pyrenees which caught everyone by surprise inclding the air stewards. After we landed, I found that my Blackberry Z10, newly converted to run on a BT EE network sim card could find the local network but wouldn't attach to any of the four carriers available with strong signal. I tried different settings, and re-started the phone to no avail. In the end, it booted up to 100% but wouldn't even display what Blackberry call the 'Escreen' = the 'desktop' on an ordinary computer, so I couldn't even use it to retrieve emails via wi-fi. My own personal PAYG phone, on the same EE network switched over to Orange ES, without a hitch.

Nothing much can be done about this over the weekend, and I certainly can't do anything from Spain, it will have to be done by Ashley in Cardiff, as he is the account holder for all our business phones. My guess is that BT, despite having a contract to supply us with acccess to roaming services while I'm in Spain have foisted a new SIM card upon us without checking if roaming abroad was required. If so, it's a serious indictent of the quality of service to business customers in an world where crossing European borders, if not continents is an everyday matter. Once again EE's 'Everything Everywhere' service turns out to be more like 'Nothing Nowhere' despite all their expensive media advertisements. It's not so much the technology that doesn't work properly, as the people who manage it.

 

Incompatibilities

Quite apart from checking and organising financial affairs when I come home, there are always office jobs to be done. I spent time today making a MS Publisher version of a training manual for retail workers, devised by CBS colleague Sarah, entitled 'How to Make an Arrest'. This involved going into town and taking photos of the City Centre retail zone to supply up to day graphics, but it will be up to Sarah to complete the enhancements. Needless to say, we discovered that our versions of MS Publisher are incompatible. Now that's what I call a crime against computer users. Backwards file compatibility is one of the essential attributes of any working system. Unfair.

This afternoon the switch over of the BT SIM card of my work Blackberry Z10 from Vodaphone to EE was completed. Needless to say, because EE reception in our area is so poor, compared to Vodaphone, that I cannot get a signal on the ground floor, once I cross the threshold. So, I have to go up to the attic our out in the street to call someone. The good thing about the Blackberry is that it is quick to pick up a signal automatically, whereas the Samsung Galaxy Ace II automatic facility has never worked, and any time the signal drops, it has to be re-set manually. Inconvenient and such a waste of time. Instant connectivity wherever you are, is an illusion created by marketing people, and an unfulfilled ambition on the part of the technologists. Why create and promote an expectation when you cannot be sure to deliver?

    

Remote control camera

I went to my dentist in Llandaff North yesterday morning, to have a crown fitted to a large back tooth. The filling it replaced was still intact after twenty-five years, but the edges of the tooth itself were getting ragged. The crown covers and protects perfectly although it feels somewhat strange, it's so smooth it feels like having an extra false tooth attached to my jaw.

I decided to wait for a bus to return home as one was conveniently scheduled to arrive within minutes of reaching the bus stop. Needless to stay, it didn't come. The timetable lied, so I had a twenty minute wait. I could have been half way home in that time. Former city centre colleague Alun Tudur, minister of Ebenezer Eglwys Annibynol in Charles Street accosted me at the bus stop, about to visit one of his deacons who lived in a house adjacent to the stop. I haven't seen him for at least a couple of years, since we bumped into each other ourtide the CBS office, which in those days was also in Charles Street. My how time flies.

It was raining today when I drove the car down to N G Motors in Splott for its annual service. I have previously walked or cycled back home or to the office from there, but it was too wet to enjoy the added exercise, so I caught a conveniently arriving eleven bus from Splott Road. This took me to Greyfriars, where I only had to cross the road to pick up one of the Stagecoach out of town buses, the 122, which goes to Tonypandy via Ponyclun via Cathedral Road, close to home. Most convenient.

I had no reason to go out again after my return. I had a briefing to write for office purposes which could be done from home. With time on my hands I decided to install and try out the Sony Playmemories app on my Samsung Galaxy Ace Duo, and on my Asus Transformer, to serve as remote control devices with my Sony HX50. I was impressed with how easy it was to set up and use on both. The large clear preview displayed on the Transformer screen is most helpful in acquiring a desirable photograph.  Now I have to think of situations in which it might be worth the effort to use it. 

I imagine it would be beneficial with the camera on a tripod. To avoid shake when pressing the shutter button on a tripod mounted camera, I have to set the shutter timer to allow the camera to settle from the touch impact of my finger. This remote control app allows for focussing and other adjustments, as well as shutter operation. You can see exactly what you're shooting and don't have to be in line of sight. This is good for shooting shy wildlife. All that remains now is to remember to pack a small tripod and the phone when I take a camera for a walk.
  

Getting back into novel reading

Time slips by quickly. I'm getting right back into a routine that entails a daily visit to the CBS office wedged in between domestic and personal tasks. On Monday after work, I had a replacement screen fitted to my Samsung Galaxy Ace II. Only when I was on my way home on the bus did I discover that although the touch screen itself worked fine, the touch area and home button at the bottom of the screen didn't work. That meant a trip back to the shop on Tuesday morning to get it fixed. The tech guys were charming and apologetic. They were in a rush and I was in a rush at the end of Monday, so neither of us had tested it thoroughly before parting company.

While I was waiting for the second repair I popped into W H Smith, and impulse bought a couple of novels to read - Patricia Cornwell's 'Dust' and John Le Carre's 'A delicate truth', both of which hit my curiosity button, and were a discount bundle. I started the former to kill time, and was soon hooked. Over the past few years I haven't read many books. I simply lost interest. I read a lot of news on line, and get doses of fiction from watching telly, and on Monday that meant the first Episode of the acclaimed 'Hinterland' on BBC Four, which was first produced on S4C, and is gloriously bi-lingual, and for once it's not Danish or Swedish and English, it's Cymraeg - Ardderchog bechgyn! 

Blessed or cursed with a strongly visual way of engaging, I get a lot from well crafted authentic film drama. If you're interested in storyline and its messages, concentration of narrative in visual images saves lots of time. It's another way of saying that I'm impatient with slow convoluted descriptive narrative. If I want that sort of imaginative pleasure from words, I'd choose poetry to conjure with. Now, I like Cornwell's complex story lines, but tend to speed read terse descriptive passages she uses to evoke mood and atmosphere. In this respect, 'Dust' portrays the world in much the same way as in novels she wrote a dozen years ago - wintry, dank and grey for the most part.

I wondered if I still had enough patience and concentration not to get bored with reading a novel. I now realise that when I'm abroad or on holiday I have little taste for reading because there's so much to see take an interest in and take pictures of. Yet, leisure reading is a major industry, and every expatriate community I know of has some kind of book exchange facility, if not a library, so many if not most people do read. When I get stuck into a book, I shut the world out completely and read every spare moment of the day and evening until I fall asleep. That's easy when the world outside resembles the backdrop of a Patricia Cornwell novel, as it has done here lately.

Wednesday morning, I acquired a new office chair for home. It'll do me no end of good, as it sits tall enough at my desk to allow correct typing posture. I should have done this years ago. Ashley and I drove to the PMR offices in Chepstow in the afternoon, to sort out some issues with several radios. The weather had cleared up sufficiently by then to make it a very pleasant drive, with the deciduous trees along the route glamorous with fresh growth of leaves.  

On not fixing what ain't broke

In stark contrast to yesterday, this morning's sky was overcast, and it rained. While I was editing and uploading photos from yesterday's outing, I had a message to tell me of the untimely death of Gordon Nichol, after a fall. He was another of the faithful at St John's, a contemporary of mine who'd expressed the hope that I'd be available to take his funeral service when the time came. I recall him asking me this himself in person on past occasions when he was in a melancholic mood. I spoke to his partner to let her know I'd had the sad news.

Then at midday, I dashed through the drizzle to the Ignation meditation group at Diana's house. By the time we'd finished our forty minute session, the skies were clear blue and the sun was shining again, making the day feel more like one in April than October. A pleasant surprise.

After lunch with the mediation group I went into the office, stuffed envelopes for a RadioNet mail distribution, then attempted to design and print some labels to a new format. No matter how many adjustments I tried, or scrupulous checks I made, I couldn't get the label file created to print out and properly match the label sheet. Nor, could I get control of the tray I wanted to use to feed labels through the lazer printer. It's an everyday office routine I've never been able to master, despite understanding how it works and thinking I've configured it correctly. I suppose it's one good reason why many small print-shops still exist and have enough clients to keep them busy with work.

Owain came around for supper, getting to grips with his Samsung Galaxy Ace II and asking my advice on low level controls he hadn't worked out for himself. Unfortunately I'm not much better myself. There are so many options and things I either don't need or don't have a clue about, I investigate features on a need to know basis, and generally forget very quickly how I did or didn't achieve a result. 

One thing is certain. I don't like any of the possible web browsing interfaces available on Android equipment, tablet of phone. They simply don't allow the same precise control as the browser user interface on a proper computer. It bothers me that the standardisation of interfaces across different devices is tending to make desktops work more like phones and tablets, and in my book that's taking away control from the user. And no, I never wanted to be obliged to learn a new user interface, which limits what I can do quickly and efficiently from memory. Why should I have to waste time acquiring extra abilities to use equipment when what I already had was perfectly adequate? Why does Google keep on changing the layout of its main homepage? Twice this month so far.

How long before someone clever invents a 'retro interface option' for people like me that resent so much the additional un-necessary imposition?

I heard this evening from Richard Hall, churchwarden at St John's city Parish Church of the death of one of its faithful members, Gordon Nichol, following a fall dowstairs. In an occasionally melancholic mood before I retired, he would say to me "When I die, will you officiate at my funeral here at St John's?" Yes, of course!" was my considered pastoral response, believing that he would outlive me.

You never know what's going to happen, do you?
    

Lost and found

In the post this morning, a jiffy bag from Margaret up in Llanafan containing my lost Samsung Galaxy Ace II, missing presumed damaged or stolen, when all the time it was hiding in the black leather back seat of her car from that delightful afternoon back in August when she showed us around her parish. And still holding its charge. Amazing! All I have to do is get it un-blacklisted by Orange, and Owain can have it to use, since I already have a new phone, and he wants an Android smartphone to get him started, as he's been using a conventional mobile for years.

Clare had a school open day, so I was left to my own devices until mid afternoon, and just pottered around - emails, blog, sermon for tomorrow - not enough blue sky to be worth a photo expedition on my own. We went into town and ended up having tea, as we often do, in John Lewis' before returning home for supper and the last episode of 'The Young Montalbano', a splendid series faithful in content and spirit to the original featuring the detective in mid-life crisis.

Leaving for Malaga

With an evening flight booked yesterday from Bristol to Malaga, an unusually relaxed morning was possible, packing and visiting the bank. By the time Clare took me to catch my train, the city centre area next to the MIllennium Stadium had gone into crowd control mode, with Westgate and other streets blocked off, and pedestrian access only to Central Square in front of the station. Tonight is the opening night of the UK tour of pop star Rihanna. Clare had to drop me off in front of the bus station entrance, leaving me to walk the last 150 metres to the ticket office, slowed by a growing tide of mostly women, overdressed or under-dressed, depending on age or taste, heading out of the station to the Stadium in a mood of high excitement. Thankfully there was no queue at the booking office, and after battling the tide of concert goers to get up the steps on to the platform, I arrived with a couple of minutes to spare.

The airport bus from Temple Meads arrived a couple of minutes after I reached to stop. It was delayed, by a couple of minutes by two private cars parking opportunistically in the reserved bus space to drop off passengers, ad because the bus couldn't park, it blocked the passage of other vehicles around the station one way traffic system. No police officer or traffic warden to be seen when needed, as ever. Although it was rush hour the bus sped through the most congested inner city streets and was ten minutes ahead of schedule arriving. With only hand baggage, getting through security took just ten minutes, despite the huge number of holiday makers also departing on evening flights. So I had a good two hours to relax and eat something before boarding. 

The southbound flight sped high above an unbroken layer of grey cloud, that not only produced amazing sunset effects, but also huge patches of diffuse red-orange glow in the cloud when we passed close to urban street lit areas. It was like looking down into a volcanic fissure or a steel furnace. I don't use my Samsung Galaxy Ace II phone camera much, but on this occasion it was less hassle than retrieving the camera from my case in the overhead locker, and risk losing this other-wordly phenomenon. Despite the ice crystals on the inside of the double glazing, and the cabin light reflections, one of ten photos well conveys the scene, also capturing the thin sliver of a new moon.

 

The 'plane arrived a good twenty minutes early. The pilot announced it was time saved on this route as the flight was directed to Malaga's runway two, the shortest approach from our flight corridor. Geoff and Carole were waiting at the arrivals gate, and just after midnight we arrived at Church House. The night time temperature is pleasantly warm, not too humid, just right for a short night's sleep before I return to the airport with Geoff and Carole, on their way to start their holiday back in the UK. It's good to be back.

    

Orange EE blues

I did bother to get up early this morning and get to Morning Prayer in College as my dear near neighbour on the upper corridor Dr John Wilks was addressing students and staff for the first time in the Tuesday Reflection assignment. John is an experienced Methodist lay preacher and a theological educator with a long and interesting track record in working with people training for ministry and mission. It was good to hear him engage with one of the high points of New Testament writing - 1 John 4 - and the challenge that faces every community to make love of each other and love of God consistent with each other.

After breakfast, I had a go at sorting out my new study, which has two computers. One wired up and ready to go, the other just dumped surplus to requirements somewhere else in the building I guess. The one wired up took half an hour to boot up and attach itself to the network. The hard drive wasn't all that full. It was probably eight or nine years old, same age as my oldest functioning laptop from which Windows XP was banished in favour of more efficient and speedy Linux several years ago. 

I went home for lunch to collect the old HP laptop. It had much the same specification as the machine I inherited. It booted up in 3-4 minutes, attached itself to the College network, then blew an adaptor plug fuse. Idiot that I am, I picked one from my collection with a 1amp fuse when a 3amp is needed for the laptop's replacement transformer. Ah well, it can wait. The time for urgency in reading College emails and shuffling documents is past. Thank heavens.

Fr Mark came to the evening's tutor group for a get-to-know-you session. It's not as if students don't know much about him already, but it is as important for them to make their own personal relationships with him as it is for me to step back. 'He must increase while I must decrease', as St John Baptist would say. 

After the session it was satisfying to get away in good time to attend the first of the new term Chi Gung sessions, which did me a power of good. Then I went over to Owain's place to pick up the misplaced SIM card. It worked perfectly after a re-boot. Even so, it's yet a poor advertisement for Orange EE's customer service. Just as well I didn't have cause to rely on a connected phone that I'd paid for to be in urgent contact with someone during a minor personal crisis. Having emergency service access on any phone is all well and good, but why overwhelm 999 with non-critical stuff because your providor cannot deliver accurate and timely information about the phone service you've paid for?

  

Handover time, straightforward or otherwise

I went into College late today, as I didn't feel the need to arrive in time for Morning Prayer on the first day of term. I needed to remove the remains of my stuff from the office which will from now on  belong to Fr Mark Clavier. He was already busy unpacking books, so I collected what was mine and moved it to the empty room without a view across the corridor, which already has my nameplate on it. After lunch we met for half an hour for a hand-over briefing. It's a relief to revert to being just a voluntary tutor again with a better defined part to play in College life until ordination time marks an end and a beginning for those accompanied through training. 

It's been quite difficult to maintain my city centre interest in CBS RadioNet at the same level over the past six months. Having a secretary to take care of the financial administration has been a huge advantage, and it has enable me to concentrate on building the aspects of the organisation which interface day to day operations with the right level of accountability to Business Crime Reduction partners: viz. the Retail Partnership, City Council and South Wales Police. This side of our enterprise was badly done from the outset, and it has disadvantaged us in ways that have made it difficult to grow universal confidence in work that in reality is done very well indeed. We've got things back to where they should have been from the outset, but now there's a lot of work to be done to communicate this to everyone with an interest in the well-being and security of the City. And that's what I'd like to concentrate on doing next.

By the time I'd returned from the CBS office, my new phone had stopped being able to connect with the Orange EE network. Yesterday I'd followed instructions and replaced the still active SIM card from my old phone to the new one, and it had worked in the new phone until now. The sales-girl on Saturday had told me that the new SIM card would be activated in 24 hours, and that was not the case, hence the switch. I thought I'd misunderstood her. Now my old SIM in the new phone was dead. But, unfortunately I'd put the new SIM (which I thought was redundant) into the box with the old phone, which I'd given to Owain. Oh dear, I'll have to wait until tomorrow to recover the SIM to see if it contains my account details. Even if it does, it will mean that the originally promised 24 hour activation period was, in fact, 48. How's that for customer service?

 

Return to Radyr

Another early Sunday start, with not so far to travel. Three morning services in Radyr Parish to take, as Jenny is taking her Easter break. An eight o'clock at Christchurch with twenty communicants, followed by a nine fifteen at St John's Danescourt with another twenty communicants, then a Sung Eucharist back at Christchurch with seventy-five communicants and a couple of dozen children in the Sunday School. It was very enjoyable. This time I got to speak with David and Joyce Suthers, the only Radyr parishioners I have known for ten years since we met over a Korean Veterans' service in St John's City Parish Church. They were there also on Easter morning, but the church was so crowded and busy we missed each other.

At the end of lunch, twenty hour hours after purchasing my phone, it was still not working as it should but the old one still worked, so I called the help line, and was told that all I had to do was swap the SIM card from the old into the new phone. It wasn't something the sales girl had reminded me to do. I guess she must have assumed I knew all about these things - well, if I did, I'd forgotten. Much as technological progress fascinates me, I invest only as much time acquiring need to know-how where phones and other gizmos are concerned. Once set up, my old Samsung Galaxy has 'just worked' and required precious little extra understanding, so I forgot something basic that my grand daughter would be able to grasp. So now my slick new Galaxy Ace 'just works', apart from a few apps still needing to be downloaded to it.

Owain came around, and together we tried to figure out how we could set up the necessary components of Wordpress in the web space I rent from Servage. He wants to build his own website to advertise his professional skills with a view to try his luck as self-employed copy-writer. It was an exercise in learning by doing, rather than simply paying for service providor to do it for us. We followed the instructions as far as we could, but found we needed a registered web address to use with the Wordpress program files we'd uploaded, and Owain didn't have the necessary details, so we didn't reach the start line this time.
  

Tech shopping day

Yesterday I determined that after an afternoon in the CBS office preparing documents to circulate for next week's Steering Group meeting, I'd go and buy a new phone on my way home. It's taken me the best part of a year to get used to a touch screen device. It was old technology when I bought it, and now it feels a little slow to the touch, compared to those used by others that I occasionally get to try. However, by the time I'd completed all my tasks, I was too late and had to dash home for supper. 

As Clare had a school AGM to attend this morning, I was able to take advantage of free time and visit the shops. I texted Clare to join me for lunch in town, and had a wander around the John Lewis technology store, in the hope she'd rendezvous there with me, but her meeting ran on late. But, while I was there, I found a bargain Dell Windows 7 Inspiron Duo convertible netbook/tablet, for the office, and had it put aside for later collection when Ashley gets into town. It'll be able to plug a gap in monitoring the network while he is on the move and make for a more efficient service.

I then went to the Orange EE shop in Grand Arcade where thankfully I had little time to wait before buying a Samsung Galaxy Ace II that had commended itself to me from internet reviews and hands-on browsing in stores while fending off the enquiry: 'Are you alright there Sir?' It always takes will-power to resist the rude auto-response: 'What's the matter, do I look unwell or something?' and it wasn't long before I was on my way home for a late lunch. In fact, Clare rang me from home just as I set out. Ironically, the Grand Arcade shops aren't a good place for reception using oldish technology.

The new phone didn't take long to set up, as it's Android Gingerbread version is only a slightly polished update on the one I've become familiar with, but it's much slicker to work with. The sales girl told me that it could be a while before the new phone was activated for use, as the number transfer could take up to twenty four hours, so the old one remains in use until then.

Ashley called twice, but I didn't reach the phone in time. By the time I'd rung him back, he'd just bought the wrong computer, having requested the one set aside in his name in John Lewis', because the counter clerk collected the wrong one from reserved goods section. It's had to understand how this occurred, as the sales person I dealt with had taken to desired item off the shelf, written Ashley's name, company and phone number on the back of the correct 'special offer' price tag, and taken away from the shelf to re-unite with its accessory components. Thankfully he was still on the top floor and only had to re-join the queue and jump up and down bit. He came away with the right piece of kit, a profuse apology and another £20 off the bargain price!

It was too rainy to go out for the rest of the afternoon, so we pottered about instead, and watched the DVD movie of 'Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy' together in the evening. It's beautifully filmed, atmospheric, with great attention to detail and an absorbing slow pace. In a way it's quite stagey in the way it moves between several scene locations. Having read the book and seen the BBC original film series and heard the radio version, this seemed less complex, slightly abstracted from the original, and the 'mole' unmasked with not quite with the surprise impact delivered by the others. Oldman plays an impressive inscrutible George Smiley, but Alec Guinness' unimpressive little man portrayal still packs more lasting punch for me. With all its complexities this is one of those stories that characterise the second half of the twentieth century.