<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5740956318085443736</id><updated>2011-12-10T20:55:40.649-08:00</updated><category term='Wellington'/><category term='Meetings'/><title type='text'>no.1 Broad Street</title><subtitle type='html'>Trying to hold onto my sanity while the world spins out of control around me. You only get one chance when it comes to making a decision in life, get it wrong and face the consequences. I've made a lot of wrong ones.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://no1broadstreet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5740956318085443736/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://no1broadstreet.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bazza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07422837433021175395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6901/71/1600/DSCF0186.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5740956318085443736.post-8094857316776231172</id><published>2010-12-14T01:20:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T01:20:42.452-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Meetings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wellington'/><title type='text'>Wellington</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;On the last two occasions I have been to Wellington I have arrived at the airport on the return trip over three hours before my flight, today I was closer to four. The last time I visited I was told about a Corporate Lounge that charged a casual entry fee. Today I decided that a four hour wait was worth the $25 charge. This area is superb in comfort and everything is included in the entry fee, booze, food and nice coffee. I settled in for my wait, enjoyed the free and was amazed that I was one of four guests. Wellington weather was miserable, the clouds were sitting on the runway and it was beginning to look like I would be stuck in Wellington overnight. Halfway through my decadent afternoon the light went out in the airport, this was annoying but the impact was slight, after all the beer was cold and the WiFi continued to work. I certainly made the most of my time there and more than made up for the entrance fee in what I consumed. There was one small hitch, the bathroom lights were out and the place was pitch black. So not being one to resign myself to a full bladder I noticed that with the door open I could see the urinals. There was nothing to keep the door open so standing on one leg holding the door I could just reach the kiddie urinal which was about 2 foot off the floor. I managed to relieve myself and then grope my way to the washbasin to wash my hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The power outage in the actual terminal caused some concern for the flights, but luckily I was able to keep mine even though the airport authority had changed the departure gate to the opposite side of the airport. The flight was a little lumpy but I eventually arrived home safe and sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I experienced a little deja vu while in Wellington, my wife had been to the doctors on Monday and was told that she will have to have her left hip replaved in the New Year. It was 8 years ago to the day and last time I was stranded in Wellington overnight. Something to look forward to in the New Year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some horrible shifts coming up in the next two weeks and maybe even Christmas Day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5740956318085443736-8094857316776231172?l=no1broadstreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://no1broadstreet.blogspot.com/feeds/8094857316776231172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://no1broadstreet.blogspot.com/2010/12/wellington.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5740956318085443736/posts/default/8094857316776231172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5740956318085443736/posts/default/8094857316776231172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://no1broadstreet.blogspot.com/2010/12/wellington.html' title='Wellington'/><author><name>Bazza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07422837433021175395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6901/71/1600/DSCF0186.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5740956318085443736.post-681350147186687642</id><published>2010-12-06T17:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-06T17:37:02.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Work, Work, Work</title><content type='html'>A new boss, the last of the digital radio cutovers, more shift work as we approach Christmas and a longing desire to have some time off and settle down to what the New Year will bring. I was awoken at 5:20 am yesterday [Sunday] to be told that the early shift commander had called in sick and there was no relief. I was still technically the boss so the responsibility fell to me to drag my tired ass out of bed and head into work. Once there is wasn't so bad the morning was busy catching up with matters left over from the previous night so the day went fairly quickly. I could have managed without the last job of the day, which was a fatal pursuit that I was the controller for. It was straight forward enough but it was my first pursuit that had gone fatal in my 33 years, damn, the end of from a good run, it can only go downhill from here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to leave pretty smartly at the end of the shift as my wife and I had an appointment to get our photos taken. This exercise turned out to be and extremely costly exercise and even culling out half of them it still cost us $300. We had to hang around while the portfolio was put together for viewing, that exercise cost us another couple of hundred dollars after buying a patio table and chair set and my daughters Christmas present, which I'd dearly like to publish, but she reads this. We paid the money and pick up the photos in a couple of weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just before midnight and we are preparing to wrap up for the night and head home, I still have to be back by 6:00 am in the morning. Still had the time to tap this little masterpiece out though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time has passed and it's the following morning. It would appear that my Blog provider Tumblr is out of service and the murmurings on Twitter are pointing to a significant problem at the Tumblr offices. The time may have come for me to return to Blogger.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5740956318085443736-681350147186687642?l=no1broadstreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://no1broadstreet.blogspot.com/feeds/681350147186687642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://no1broadstreet.blogspot.com/2010/12/work-work-work.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5740956318085443736/posts/default/681350147186687642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5740956318085443736/posts/default/681350147186687642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://no1broadstreet.blogspot.com/2010/12/work-work-work.html' title='Work, Work, Work'/><author><name>Bazza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07422837433021175395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6901/71/1600/DSCF0186.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5740956318085443736.post-576422218776863133</id><published>2010-12-06T17:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-06T17:32:10.951-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No Motivation to Write</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"&gt;I think this is the longest I have taken to update my Blog, two weeks and while many things are happening in my life the motivation to write about them has left me. My wife just hit on the reason which compelled me to record it. She was perfectly correct when she just said that my biggest inspiration has left and moved to Christchurch, my eldest son she was referring to. His antics kept me in a constant supply of material and without knowing what’s happening in his life I have gone stale. I am sure that he is getting up to just as much crap in Christchurch that he did here in Auckland, I just don’t get to hear about it though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can start by explaining a tragedy that has befallen me this evening, don’t worry on the scale of tragedies is non-lethal. I accidentally deleted my Google Calendar account via my iPad. I was trying to get rid of duplicate entries and mistakenly deleted the wrong account, which instantly synced with my online account and wiped 3 years of data. That in itself I can live with but it also deleted all my appointments six months into the future. The worst of it is that I have an appointment in the next two weeks and I can’t remember for the life of me what day it is. I’ll have to painstakingly go through my emails at work next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have just finished my tenure, stint or whatever you’d want to call it as the Centre Manager. My boss had a brief three day return, was whisked away to relieve in Greymouth [Pike River Mine] and next week another temporary ‘New Broom’ is arriving to start a possible regime of change, maybe not, but who knows. This past twelve months has been so dysfunctional it’s not funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday [Thursday] I delivered the Eulogy at the funeral of one of our employees who passed away unexpectedly last Saturday morning. She was 30 and died of a blood clot that made it’s way to her heart. We all thought it was an Asthma attack, but it wasn’t. It was a nice service and on reflection I should have let it go when the Celebrant got my name wrong as he introduced me to come forward and speak. It created a few stifled laughs but I embarrassed him and that I shouldn’t have done. I just hate it though when people cannot pronounce a simple word, such as my surname.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work has been so busy, long days that seem to fly-by. I was in Wellington the other week, going there is not so bad without my Koru Club membership, I am usually at the airport early enough to get a nice position just next to an Expresso Bar. I have my portable MiFi, a coffee and my iPad, perfect. Going home though was a bloody nightmare, we finished the day early and I was at the airport three hours early. It was stinking hot, I was tired and the wait in the public area was a like doing a bloody penance. I finally got on the aircraft and sat in the middle seat of three, missing out on either armrest. I travelled back to Auckland with my shoulders squeezed in, dying for a pee and sweating like a pig, hell in the skies. I vowed not to go again before the end of the year and guess what I’m down there again next week for two days this time. Note to self, don’t eat the Salmon in the hotel restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The middle son still owes me the money he borrowed three months ago, of course I haven’t seen him since then, apart from one fleeting visit last Saturday when he came to borrow my neighbour, his workmates ladder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daughter has been for dinner a couple of times, the latest was two nights ago when she suggested takaways, it was a nice changed but I’m not sure it was worth the $53 it cost me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To think one comment from my wife gave me the motivation to tap out this post. It’s just before midnight now and I’m thankful that I do not have work in the morning. Small mercies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a little Tech-Talk before I go. I have been plagued with a Linux fault. The cursor randomly jumps about the screen, it has something to do with the trackpad and the inherent fault has been driving me crazy for a few months now. I found a fix for it in the form of a little program that disables the trackpad when typing starts and enables it again 1 sec after I stop typing, so much more fun now without that annoying problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s all folks, until next time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5740956318085443736-576422218776863133?l=no1broadstreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://no1broadstreet.blogspot.com/feeds/576422218776863133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://no1broadstreet.blogspot.com/2010/12/no-motivation-to-write.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5740956318085443736/posts/default/576422218776863133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5740956318085443736/posts/default/576422218776863133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://no1broadstreet.blogspot.com/2010/12/no-motivation-to-write.html' title='No Motivation to Write'/><author><name>Bazza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07422837433021175395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6901/71/1600/DSCF0186.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
