“No Mr Bond, I expect you to die”
Bloody great to get away, bloody great to get home
Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you… The cold roast potato sandwich.
There are two of us.
Night Sight on the Pixel 3 XL is well into uncanny valley photography.
Does what it says on the plate.
So tomorrow, my dear three year old MacBook – the first of the teeny tiny ones – goes in to get its battery replaced. This of course is an Apple service only thing, because it’s not just one unit, it’s several, all placed around a teeny tiny motherboard.
I have absolutely loved this machine. It’s not just that it’s teeny and tiny and weight almost nothing: it’s that three years in, despite only having a Core M processor which was low performance at the time, it still does everything that I want to do, and does it well. It’s never felt like I can’t rely on it, even when I’ve connected it to a 4K display and asked it to drive it at full resolution (it does, and does it well).
When I get it back, its battery life should get bumped up from the couple of hours I currently get to somewhere between six and eight, and all at the price of a couple of hundred quid. That will mean it can last me for perhaps another two years before it becomes too old to do the things I want. By the time it finally retires, it will probably have lasted me six years. That’s a pretty good innings for a computer, given how much I hammer them.
You can’t complain too much about a world that has this view in it #nofilter
Cat and Kim
Well that’s some sky #nofilter
Downstairs in the amazing second hand bookshop in Whitstable, the walls are partly covered in old dust jackets.
Sunday roast at revival. I may never move again.
I am against this.
I don’t deserve this woman.
Camden stoner bear.