Technical Issues Are Delaying BOOJUM!

Thank You For Your Patience
I was going to proceed with an entirely different opening, but since my idiot PC and it's hibernating hamster have been systematically - excuse me, SYSTEMATICALLY SABOTAGING the blog, meet something entirely different, fuelled by coffee and RAGE.
     "Gosh, this ought to be entertaining," I can hear you chortle.  "That vein on his forehead throbs like the bass track on a Chemical Brothers song when he gets going."
     I did actually start to load up today's photographs 29 minutes ago, and wondered why they were taking so long to display on-screen.  After giving the PC a good slap to wake the hamster, I selected the relevant photograph.

This is what I could not get

     And got an error message.  "An attached device is not operating properly".
     'Yes it is!" I riposted.  "Look, it's up there as a device to choose from.  SMG3."  This, apparently, is computerspeak for my phone, which is where the photos were held.  What, you think I was trying to connect up the washing machine*?
     I quit out of Blogger and went back in again, seeing if that would remove the error.  Nope, same error message.  Conrad at this point was beginning to get irked.  Technical problems like this are what spurs on his Frothing Nitric Ire**.
     Okay, unplug the phone and see if - what's that?  The phone, even if unconnected, is still showing as a device on the list of things to choose from.

Highlighted on left

     'Curses!' I swore (actually I said considerably more but this is a SFW site and Edna is listening).  This obviously meant I had to restart the computer, meaning a considerable delay before I could actually start crafting words.  I was cross.  Considerably so.
     So, here we are.  Yes, I have upped the word count thanks to having considerable technical issues but allow me to inform you that IT'S NOT WORTH IT!
     I shall now go pummel a punching-bag to work off my Frot - oh, I've already used that.  My Crimson-tinted Homicidal Rage?

Unpleasant Jobs
I have already posted a photograph of how balmy and sunny today is, which won't stop me from posting it again.  If you object, then the exit door IS THAT WAY!

More like summer than summer was

     Really, for a third of the way through October and well into autumn, this is better weather than we had in "summer".  I know I harp on about British weather, because it's usually predictably woeful, and a change like this really merits mention.
     Which has nothing to do with the rest of this article.  Typical, eh?  I took Edna out for her shorter morning walk, and here is the evidence:

     You can work out the time of day from the length of shadows and the lichen on the treetrunks.  Anyway, my least favourite part of walking Edna is having to wield the doggy bag, and I don't mean the kind that euphemistic South Canadians request their excess restaurant viands be put into.  I mean this kind:

Unfilled, I hasten to add

     Well well well, what's this I'm watching on television half an hour later?  "World's Biggest Shipbuilders", about a South Korean shipyard constructing a Danish oil-tanker.
     I think, in the interests of reader comfort, this ought to be extended to a different post.  So here goes - 

Ballast Tank Balletics
An oil-tanker, like many other cargo ships, has the capacity to take on board seawater in special ballast tanks to affect how high or low in the water the ship will ride.  These tanks can't simply be left as bare metal, or the seawater would corrode them.  They have to be shot-blasted to a smooth finish and then painted.

Avast the ballast!

     Except, of course, it's not as simple as that.  The temperature in the enclosed tank can reach 30 Degrees Centigrade, it's pitch black apart from head-mounted torches the workers use, and it's extremely claustrophobic, since the tanks are subdivided with baffles and partitions to prevent excessive water movement when full, in addition to pipes and pumps.
     The shot-blasting actually uses metal flakes that strike sparks off the metal and require protective safety suits.

Fun for everyone!

     The paint is - surprise! - toxic and caustic, so if you get any on exposed skin, say hello to chemical burns, which is why the painters wear a protective suit with a gas mask and tape over every joint on the suit.

Working with a song on his lips.

     Now, would you prefer to do this, or take a stroll in the autumn sunshine with the possibility of bringing back a doggy bag?  Don't rush to answer.



*  Not this time, anyway.
**  I've not used this phrase for a while, so I thought I'd remind you of it.