Morning radio, sunny shine.

Waking up and listening to Radio Four's Today programme is one of the few pleasures I have remaining in life. Which, without much effort on the part of Messrs Humphrys, Naughtie, Stourton, and Mademoiselles Montague and Quinn, manages to bring me to the brink of over brimming.

It's strengths lay in its contented fuddy-duddy dusty old slippers role one minute, to whip-cracking firebrand-politician-beating-outrider, the next and I wouldn't want it any other way!

So where's the moan. Well, even I start to yawn when that favourite old chestnut of the home-counties, incorrect grammar - as opposed to that other chestnut of immigration – is brought into play due to the lack of anything else more news worthy. Even it it does bring a lighter air to proceedings. If I really want to know whether a diphthong's more classy than a pure thong, I'll consult the online or real life oracle and come to an appropriate decision. For those of us with diminished and diminishing memory sticks, its far better putting them to use remembering when that last pint was consumed or, even more importantly, when its time for that next meal!

For those who were up at the crack of lunch time, they'd have been greeted to the sights of hoary-frosted bearded clouds lazily meandering across clearing horizons, sadly this would be over powered by the increasing level of vehicle exhaust working in concert, with the growing levels of sunlight tethered smog! So why not move and stop moaning? That's all well and good, but the draw of a 24hr shop nearby, a tube station that is only five minutes walk, buses for every destination within three minutes walk, a cinema, bars, good restaurants, a fully functioning market, even a M&S (no don't work for, have anything to do, or receive any vouchers from them) on the doorstep, I can put up with the probable life-shortening experience I'm going through, for at least one or two more years. But then, there'll be that nice little cottage in the country - or some other country – miles away from anywhere or anyone... Maybe I'll just buy some sturdy earplugs!

But in the meantime, here's a few pictures of the glorious few odd days, of sunny bliss.

Birds in flight, a wee copse....

and a couple more, showing a glorious autumnal day!

Linux vs. WinMacTel

I have, for years, been a reluctant but stalwart user of Microsoft products. From Windows 1.0 - 98/ME a collection of nightmares on any dark rainy night.

Then came XP, and XP SP1 (Service Pack 1), which were on a completely different level of operability and usability. For a while I even liked using it and stopped trying out alternative Operating Systems (OSs). Not that the infant Linux, wobbling OS/2 or BeOS who, were any worse, it was just not been able to use the printer, or modem, or something else which I'd just purchased so it was back to the monolith.

But as with all things Microsoft, they had to go and shoot themselves in the foot. The second service pack came out, and everything had to be authenticated and validated, and briefly I managed to toy with XP SP2.

Then one day, my home built machine decided to come to blows with XP SP2 and up popped the infamous BSoD (Blue Screen of Death) raspberry and it refused to restart in any mode let alone Safe.

As much as I hated doing it, I called it a day and began the dreaded reinstall process. Not only of the OS, but the myriad other programs cluttering up my 20GB (partitioned) drive, effectively rendering me incommunicado, unable to do anything for 48 wasted hours, whilst I also tried to find that slip of paper which had the order that applications should be re-installed as well as whether they should be upgraded before continuing onto the next.

Believe me there have been many occasions over the years, I have felt like invoicing Microsoft (and other companies that sell exceptionally buggy software) for so effectively wasting time.

If, for example, banks can charge exorbitant amounts for sending out a computerised letter, I don't see why we the end users, can't charge big business for wasting of our time. Especially when there are no real alternatives.

After the reinstall and activation, it seemed as if things were getting back onto the right track. Then came the validation, and it failed! So dialing the Validation number (thankfully a free phone number) and going through the process, I am informed that it's not a valid copy of XP. I said it was, before it had fallen over; I had installed, activated and validated it only six months ago. But no they were not having any of it, and refused to validate. Fumingly I headed back to the now very much hated XP.

That was it, I was almost there. Ubuntu 6.04 popped its head onto the scene; except the mouse wouldn't work properly, jumping to the top or bottom of the screen. The brief time that it did, it never found my two external drives, neither was I able to log onto the internet. Then version seven arrived, which I promptly downloaded a couple of weeks ago, but never thought it would be worth it, just to create another drinks coaster.

So I waited, and sure enough Windows, yet again, started playing up. So on a system restart I loaded the Ubuntu CD and waited...

The improvement! The difference! I think I'm in love! Everything works! All my peripherals were seen, found. Even logged onto the net without me realising I'd been logged on without a security breach. No annoying anything popping up asking for this, querying that. It was velvety nice and straightforward but more importantly, usable straight from a bootable CD. It was also fast from the CD, as fast as XP using the hard drive. Can't imagine how much faster it will be once installed on the hard-drive, with a much nicer GUI than XP any day of the week.

Suffice to say, I shall not be upgrading to SP2 of XP, neither shall I be getting Vista in any of its myriad expensive flavours. If I do purchase an upgraded laptop you can rest assured it will be Linux based. If I do need to run a program, and the only thing I can think of, at this moment, is my one vice of Eve-Online, then I'll just stick the game on a laptop with an emulation program and run it from there – although must check there is one.

Over the years it has been a fraught and overall a very unsatisfying relationship with the Redmond giant, which I'll glad to see the back of, and shall not be renewing, ever again!

So finally adieu and farewell to you Microsoft, as I tap away using OpenOffice, upload to the blog using Firefox (hopefully via an Apache based server). Make a backup of all my data, format the C:\ drive and finally install Ubuntu...

But Microsoft isn't the only technological behemoth out there, in danger of losing its crown (it will happen). Well look at the situation now, yes Microsoft's a behemoth, but a behemoth beset by problems, with most people cursing the day they have to use their software. So was it a missed opportunity for IBM all those years ago? With that good old rear vision, probably not. Google on the other hand, are in danger of losing their plucky little underdog image and turn into another corporate monolithic entity, which will have just as many snipers, detractors, saboteurs and in the end people will just stop using them. In droves they will peer eagerly towards the horizon for the next new thing.

So Google and the Linux, continue to innovate, don't attempt to stifle criticism (especially if well deserved), there's a wealth of talented people wishing you to succeed and wanting to have an alternative to the WinMacTel alliance!

Waking daises twenty-four seven.

Waking up and listening to the Radio Four's Today programme is one of the few pleasures I have remaining in life. Which, without much effort on the part of Messers Humphrys, Montague, Naughtie, Quinn and Stourton, always brings me to the brink of over brimming.

Its strengths lay in its contented fuddy-duddy dusty old slippers role one minute, to whip-crackling firebrand-politician-beating-outrider the next, and I wouldn't want it any other way!

So where's the moan. Well, even I start to yawn when that favourite old chestnut of the home-counties (incorrect grammar), as opposed to that other chestnut of immigration, is brought into play due to the lack of anything else more news worthy. Even it it does bring a lighter air to proceedings. If I really want to know whether a diphthong's more classy than a pure thong, I'll consult the online or real life oracle and come to an appropriate decision. For those of us with diminished and diminishing memory sticks, its far better putting them to use remembering when that last pint was consumed or, even more importantly, when its time for that next meal!

For those who were up at the crack of lunch time, they'd have been greeted to the sights of hoary-frosted bearded clouds lazily meandering across clearing horizons, sadly this would be over powered by the increasing level of vehicle exhaust slipperely working in concert, with the growing levels of sunlight tethered smog! So why not move and stop moaning? That's all well and good, but the draw of a 24hr shop nearby, a tube station that is only five minutes walk, buses - for every destination - within three minutes walk, a cinema, bars, good restaurants, a fully functioning market, even a M&S (no don't work for, have anything to do, or receive any vouchers from them) on the doorstep, I can put up with the probable life-shortening experience I'm going through, for at least one or two more years. But then, there'll be that nice little cottage in the country - or some other country – miles away from anywhere or anyone...

Maybe I'll just buy some sturdy earplugs!

Noisy neighbours from the hellish side?

One of the many problems with London; which scores so highly on the many 'things you hate most about your city' surveys is, that hardy annual: Neighbouritis. Yes a made up nonce word of Neighbour (British spelling) and courtesy of old Grecian – a time when men were men and up for doing it - 'itis', but better than saying Neighbour-from-hell- who-drives-your- grandmother-to-an-early-grave!

Unless you live in a nice secluded area, i.e. wealthy and rich, then it's more than likely you will have come up against the perennial problem of Neighbour-noise-ism! Yes how many times have you felt like killing your fellow neighbour or at least hoping they get run over by the number 36 bus as it hurtles its way down the High Street, just because the bass sound on their latest purchased - although nowadays downloaded or streamed - techno track, or they have somehow taken with a strange but firm grasp some twisted bit of logic that they should be the ones on X-Factor and not the current crop of munters, is driving you insane.

All those greedy sods who turned old houses into nasty noise traps, that governments really didn't bother doing anything about to legally ensure people didn't get on each others nerves, are now long gone and dead. But, hopefully, their off-spring are living under the same tortuous circumstances as the rest of us.

Most of the old properties had wall-to-wall carpet covered flooring, which when based on a family of six plus, living over three floors was fine. But then the prospectors moved in and converted said three storey houses into at least six small poky flats, sometimes, even more. If living in London and on, or below the poverty line, there is a 90% probability during your moving life, that you will be subject – especially if living below someone else – to unacceptable noise levels and at logger-heads over the best courses of action to take.

Sometimes this will be nothing more than the pair of you just turning up the noise. Sadly it will be to such levels, that neither of you will be able to think properly, let alone properly hear what you're listening to or what the other is listening to.

But that feeling of satisfaction will be wonderful, if short lived. Both of you will feel wonderful thinking that you've pissed the other off, not realising that it's only really your hearing that's been damaged. But you exchange pleasantries when briefly meeting, saying all's well with the world, secretly wondering why the other doesn't have a life threatening allergy to peanuts, so you can offer a peanut tainted cup at the next village jamboree.

And life goes on, for days on end it's nice and quiet – as they have gone away on holiday without telling you! Sometimes you just have to sit there spending the hours idly, playing with the volume button. On other occasions you just decide to go out for a walk or just to meet friends, eventually returning home slightly the worse for alcohol, put the stereo on and wake up in the morning with music blasting out and a sour note pushed through the letter box expressing extreme displeasure, bordering contempt.

Looking into the anti-social noise laws, including that of leases, most have some provision with regard for this, yet hardly anything seems to be done about it. Environmental health will only do something after 22:30hrs! Leases say noise – likely to disrupt fellow neighbours - should cease after 23:00hrs, and before then, that people should have consideration for their fellow flat dwellers.

Sadly even when letters are sent out reminding inhabitants of their contractual obligations, scant notice is given to them and things go on as usual.

So what recourse is there available to those under noise-siege? At this moment in time, it's a long hard slog through, ineffective management companies, useless housing associations, non-caring councils, solicitors, lawyers, courts etc. Which if you want a really quick result isn't much in the way of comfort, but will be of benefit once you've reached the end of the tunnel; well until the next person moves in.

The following is an excerpt from an environmental services website, and do take note of the last paragraph...

What is noise nuisance?

Our service aims to tackle unreasonable noise disturbance and reduce its impact on the quality of people's lives in the borough...

The general consensus – as unsatisfactory as it is - seems to be... just whack your own noise levels up; so you can hear what it is you're listening to. Either that or suffer the stress and frustration of living with an inconsiderate, arsehole, of a neighbour... on the otherhand, where's that bus!