I don't know what's wrong with the internet but its doing my head in. I can use the unsecured wireless network that zaps through The Peach from I don't know where but it is unreliable and quite frankly stupid. At the moment the free internet is telling me that I can not log in to my blog because the authenticity of the received data could not be verified. Often it will tell me that google is error 404, facebook not a valid website and as for twitter, forget about it. The Peach net can be fixed, The Spatula has been locked in high level negotiations with Mr Oddweird and Telstra for some time now. It seems that the problem exists in Mr Oddweird's flat below The Peach, the flat that he is pretending to live in.
Mr Oddweird is unreliable at the best of times, he still has not fixed the bathroom cupboard that fell off the wall in the middle of the night over a year ago, The Peach Deck has loose boards, the back door does not have a lock (we have engineered a locking device out of metal pipes but I would much prefer something that operated with a key). Telstra requires access to Mr Oddweird's flat, this means coordinating the repair person to arrive at the designated time, this is a difficult but not impossible task, the real difficulty lies in convincing Mr Oddweird to turn up at the same time.
Two weeks ago a man arrived at The Peach, let himself in the front gate and commenced wandering about in the front garden peering under bushes. The Spatula went outside to enquire of him just what in the fuck he was doing. He said he was here to turn the water off because the bill had not been paid. I did not know that they could disconnect the water. The Spatula was furious, we had been in regular contact with Mr Oddweird about the water bills, its his responsiblity to pay the water bills. He assured several times that he had paid the bill, we would then receive yet another overdue notice addressed to 'the occupier', printed on red paper and containing all manner of threats.
The Spatula phoned Mr Oddweird and then thrust the phone into the water disconnection man's hands and issued the instruction 'talk!'. Talk they did and somehow it was worked out, The Peach remained connected to mains water supply and all was well, until the internet fucked out. The Spatual has just informed me that tomorrow morning, when all the planets are aligned and there is a small but significant rift in the space time continuum Mr Oddweird will meet the telephone repair person and the miracle of internet will invisibly and silently reinstate its little datawaves inside The Peach.
Mr Oddweird is unreliable at the best of times, he still has not fixed the bathroom cupboard that fell off the wall in the middle of the night over a year ago, The Peach Deck has loose boards, the back door does not have a lock (we have engineered a locking device out of metal pipes but I would much prefer something that operated with a key). Telstra requires access to Mr Oddweird's flat, this means coordinating the repair person to arrive at the designated time, this is a difficult but not impossible task, the real difficulty lies in convincing Mr Oddweird to turn up at the same time.
Two weeks ago a man arrived at The Peach, let himself in the front gate and commenced wandering about in the front garden peering under bushes. The Spatula went outside to enquire of him just what in the fuck he was doing. He said he was here to turn the water off because the bill had not been paid. I did not know that they could disconnect the water. The Spatula was furious, we had been in regular contact with Mr Oddweird about the water bills, its his responsiblity to pay the water bills. He assured several times that he had paid the bill, we would then receive yet another overdue notice addressed to 'the occupier', printed on red paper and containing all manner of threats.
The Spatula phoned Mr Oddweird and then thrust the phone into the water disconnection man's hands and issued the instruction 'talk!'. Talk they did and somehow it was worked out, The Peach remained connected to mains water supply and all was well, until the internet fucked out. The Spatual has just informed me that tomorrow morning, when all the planets are aligned and there is a small but significant rift in the space time continuum Mr Oddweird will meet the telephone repair person and the miracle of internet will invisibly and silently reinstate its little datawaves inside The Peach.
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