Like you, we’ve heard about the horrors in Brussels. We were sitting at London’s Gatwick Airport early on Tuesday when we read on the net what was happening in Belgium – minutes before boarding a flight of our own. However, since our departure, except for flashes courtesy of the expensive data on our phones, we had been without the Internet until late yesterday afternoon (UK time).
So in that respect I was not unhappy we were unable to access much news. Like in Paris last November. Like in London in July 2005 (when the Tube line we use regularly – the Piccadilly – was attacked). Like in Madrid in March 2004. Like four passenger planes being suicide-hijacked and crashed into skyscrapers by “religious” maniacs in September 2001, it’s too upsetting….
I’ve been to Brussels a couple of times and liked the city a lot. There’s nothing I can say someone else hasn’t already said, or won’t say better. So we’ll leave it and talk about something else here.
I wrote the other day of none of us being an island. Well, today we’re on an island – literally. And it isn’t the island of Great Britain. Buenos Dias from Tenerife, Canary Islands, Spain:
I’ve never been here before. We were presented last week with an unexpected last-minute chance to visit for at least 2 weeks, and longer if we can and want to stay. Well, we jumped at the chance.
On arrival, though, we discovered our friends’ holiday apartment – which we’re borrowing – had an Internet connectivity problem. Actually, she couldn’t remember her router password exactly, and her husband had no idea. What she’d written down of it and kept in England was a “memory prompt,” and not the whole thing.
Despite her over the phone rattling her brain trying to recall it, or what else it might have been, and my best guess efforts, we couldn’t figure it out. Without a proper PC and an Ethernet cable (which we didn’t have), I couldn’t get into the router to reset it. Finally from England she rang her “technician” local friend, the Spaniard who’d installed it, and asked him to come ’round.
After he turned up, I told him I was sure the issue was just the password. He wired up quickly and got in. When he showed me what it was, I shook my head: the password was NOTHIN’ like those our friend had part-written down or suggested it might be! I never would have “cracked” it!
When he’d finished his “tough” job, we were treated to what he did for the bulk of his living: getting communications to tough to reach geographic locations, including film shoots. And out came iPhone photos he shared with us of himself on a film set next to Matt Damon. And another of himself with an arm around Gemma Arterton….
“But I’m specialist in password changes,” he laughed.
Because he, uh, is, we’re back on the net now. 🙂