Fitting a quart into a pint pot

I have to do a little bit of driving today.

The place I am going to is one of those little places that can’t be found on a map, and even if it were I would never remember all the little twists, turns and junctions I would have to navigate to get there.

Time to rely on Roger.

For those who haven’t met Roger, he is the bloke who tells me where to drive.  He either lives in the little screen thingy I clip to the windscreen or he lives on a satellite.  I’m not sure which.

Normally I leave Roger in the car, but yesterday I brought him into the house and plugged him into my laptop.

Nothing happened.

Then I remembered that Roger is one of those pains in the arse that wants me to use Windows.

I told the laptop to use Windows.  After around half an hour of programs crashing and complaining about updates, I plugged Roger in.

He complained that he wanted an update too.

It’s a reasonable request.  Roads do change occasionally, but more important, Roger keeps an eye out for speed limits and other nasty little surprises that the various councils like to throw at me.  I told him to go ahead and update his maps.

A little progress thing appeared on my screen.  It was divided into three – Download, Unpack and Install.  The only thing that concerned me was that there was a little “time left” under each and the one under “Download” said five hours.  It had to be kidding!

It wasn’t.

The SatNav box is a fairly small gizmo.  I can fit it into my pocket with room to spare, so there can’t be that much space inside it to fit all the map information.  But there again, I suppose it was learning about every road, street, lane, town, village and speed limit in Europe.  Or maybe that’s too much for the little box and what I was actually doing was uploading the information to the satellite?  That would make more sense.

So for five hours the laptop was stuck in Windows, so I went and did a bit of stuff in the garden.

At the end of the five hours, it went into the “Unpack” thing.  That was better.  Five minutes.  Then it went into “Install”.  Another fucking hour!

I will be going out shortly and I shall be relying on Roger.

If you never hear from me again, you’ll know all that fucking wasted time was in vain.

Roger will probably have sent me to Murmansk or Cairo or somewhere.

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Comments

Fitting a quart into a pint pot — 11 Comments

  1. You will all be sad to hear that I made it there in one piece.  You will be even more devastated to discover i made it home again.  Mind you, the little fucker still tried to make me go by the longest fucking route available.

    The update hasn’t improved his crap directions.

  2. Could have been worse Grandad.
    You could be like me and have a dial-up connection. It would have taken me at least 3 days (yes all 24 hours in each of those 3 days) and I wouldn’t have been able to use my phone in all that time either.
    I just use google maps and print out the directions. Luckily I rarely go far so I don’t have to do it often.
     

  3. Joysness – Bloody hell!  Dialup?  In Merca?  Don’t tell me the arse end of the Wicklow Mountains is more advanced than Merca?

    Cat – What happens on the other days?

  4. I’ve never used one of those satnav thingys – I have an abiding distrust of that kind of technology, and with good reason if some of the tales I read are true. Anyway, where I live now I very much doubt that any mapping service has a clue what roads exist and where they go. Even the better maps I can buy are woefully inadequate. So I think for the foreseeable future I shall eschew the dulcet tones of Roger (or his mates) and continue to rely on my (usually) unerring sense of direction.

  5. Grandad

    Roger probably likes to keep to metalled roads. If your shortest route is across the field, woods and mountain tracks of Co. Wicklow you must expect Roger to disagree with you slightly.

  6. Sean – I could have used the phone but it would have been a little difficult driving while holding it in front of my eyes all the time.  The screen ain’t that big!

    Nisakiman – Almost without exception, all those tales are due to fucking idiots believing their SatNav while ignoring the obvious in front of their eyes.  If the SatNav tells these twats to turn right, they’ll turn right, oblivious of the fact that the SatNav meant “at the next junction”.  A couple of years ago in France Roger kept insisting I turn off a viaduct and drop fifty feet to the road below.  There are times when you just ignore him!

    Sean – You have a good point there.  I know a few decent short cuts through forests and farmyards that Roger seems unaware of.  Maybe he’ll learn by my good example?

  7. Grandad
    Yes they have High speed internet here in Merca, it’s just too bloody expensive for my little disability pension. By the time you add in all the taxes and charges for this, that and the other thing it’s more than $100 a month which is more than I spend on my grocery bill for the entire month. So it’s dial up for me.
    Oh well, it gets me online so I can come here and get a laugh or cry or whatever!

  8. Joysness – You have my deepest sympathy as I remember only too well the fun of dial up.  If it’s any consolation, I try to keep the site as fast as possible and cut down on images [which I also try to make as light as possible] as I do remember the frustrations of staring at a picture that takes hours to unfold down the screen.

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