There sometimes is an occasion in the tides of man when only one word will suffice to sum up a situation.
Last night, that occasion occurred.
“Fuck” I roared, as a message came up un my screen telling me that my hard disk was about to fail.
Sandy ran for cover; Herself muttered something uncomplimentary and Minnie actually stopped eating for a moment.
I did a backup of everything and then ran a check on the disk.
Fucking thing packed up.
This morning I ran some more tests. Everything seemed to be OK, so I started on a wee project I had been asked to do for one of the newspapers.
The fucking computer crashed with a grinding noise.
I’m flying on one engine at the moment. I have a feeling this machine is about to expire. One of several futures awaits me.
Maybe it is sorry for scaring me and will carry on working normally, in which case the world can breathe a sigh of relief.
I am about to run some software on it, and that could mean a rebuild, in which case the world will have to survive without Grandad for a few days.
Or it could blow up.
This could be the last post?
Is Grandad about to expire?