May. 24th, 2017

jbanana: Badly drawn banana (Default)
I was sceptical that the beans in the coffee machine were actually used. Today I hear from my (less sceptical) colleague that he's seen the coffee machine open, and the bean hopper is in fact quite large (not just a display thing in the door) and the woman who replenishes kitchen things was filling it up.

So when you get coffee from the machine, it grinds some beans to make it. Thanks heavens.

Then it adds powdered milk.

This may be the last coffee post, but I can't guarantee it.

Death

May. 24th, 2017 03:37 pm
jbanana: Badly drawn banana (Default)
We had a message from YC the other day that he was OK, which made no sense until we realised there had been a bombing.

Lots of young people are dead, and I'm pleased that my kid isn't one of them. This is uncomfortably close to being pleased that someone else's kid died.

The next day I read the news about what happened. The government had responded. So what? There were stories about people helping - free taxi rides home for the people in the area, cafes giving food and drink to people affected and the emergency services, and people offering a bed/sofa/floor to anyone who couldn't get home. I had a little cry and missed an on-line meeting that I should have been in.
jbanana: Badly drawn banana (Default)
I work in London. This means that I might be blown to pieces by a terrorist. It hasn't happened yet.

What can I do? The country is on a high terror alert, but I still go to work. As I came into the building, I was asked to show my security pass for the first time today. But I'm still more likely to be killed crossing the street.

I'm puzzled by terrorism. What do bombers hope to achieve? Everyone carries on as if nothing happened, but with extra security checks. Nothing changes. The IRA, the Nazis, religious fundamentalists - none of them have thought this through.

Anyway, if I get killed in an attack, please blow a big raspberry at whoever did it (profanities are optional, but satisfying) and carry on as normal. Play 20th Century Boy at my funeral, and no religion please.

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