Ben Park

Sometimes it amazes me how quickly my mood can change. An hour ago, I was fine. (more…)

I’m a Mac user, but I know we’re still in the minority. Consequently, I hear (Windows-using) people bang on about how much they hate iTunes on a daily basis. It’s never been a problem for me on a Mac. Not that is, until now.

When trying to download a (free) bit of software from the App store this morning, after entering my password, I was asked to enter it again and then complete three security questions. Seems a bit overkill from the start – even my bank don’t need this many separate levels of security. Then I got to the questions. Oh dear. It’s my least favourite type of security questions. That’s right – it’s the ones where an American has decided what questions you can pick from. (more…)

I’ve recently moved into a new houseshare. Not just new to me – new to all the people I’m living with. It was let as semi-furnished, so had a couple of fridges and a cooker, but no kettle or toaster. For a few days I made do with using the grill to make toast, but after several very-nearly-burnt-despite-standing-in-the-kitchen-with-it scenarios, a toaster was in order. As I bought the kettle, one of my housemates was going to buy the toaster. But being French, he was unaware of a major problem which must surely be causing distress right across the UK. (more…)

This week I’ve moved into a new house-share. I imagine I might write a few posts about that (*looks at the two draft ones he’s already started*).

I’m sharing currently with two Hungarian guys, and one Frenchman. There’s another room just been agreed by a girl (British, white), and when she moves in – that will be the house full. The Hungarian guys have been here a week, enjoyed a few days of unseasonably-glorious sunshine, and are now a bit bored/freezing as the cold weather has returned, and their National Insurance numbers haven’t turned up yet, to allow them to try and find work.

The Hungarians have hit upon the idea of going to a “discothèque” this weekend, and as the only ‘local’ in the house, they’ve asked me where a good one is. They also want me to go with them. I’ve told them immediately I hate clubs, dancing, and don’t drink. I couldn’t be less interested if they’d invited me to a live assassination, or a vegan restaurant (come on – there is NOTHING that doesn’t taste better with a bit of butter or honey rubbed all over it). (more…)

On Sunday, I got a puncture. Or maybe I didn’t. I was driving along, could smell rubber, stopped and the tyre looked flat. I moved about 20 metres to somewhere sensible, and it no longer looked flat. I searched through my car to find the details for my breakdown cover, and discovered that it ran out the day before. What a bit of bad luck (is NOT what I said at the time).

After I’d spent a couple of minutes swearing, I decided that this gave me two basic options:

1. Admit defeat, and admit that I’d never before changed a wheel, and phone a breakdown company without being a member, and incur their charge to help me; or
2. Maybe I should just change it myself?

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