This weekend, Jason came to visit. On Saturday Rose, Jason, Ed, Aew and I went on a trip to the St. Werburgh’s City Farm, which is a small farm in central Bristol—within easy walking distance of our house. It was a beautiful day, bright and warm; it felt like spring had finally arrived.
The farm is across some allotments from Ed’s flat, so we walked alongside vegetable patches, rundown sheds and the few people who had come out to tend their vegetables in the sunshine. Blossom was coming out and there was that warm scented fuzziness to the air spring brings.
I now have a copy of this wonderful poster tacked to the wall of my cube.
Going to and from work each day, I pass, pull alongside or see briefly as they flash past maybe a hundred other people. Each intent on the way ahead, little noticing my noticing them. Pretty girls and sharply dressed guys; ill-fitting suits and well-cut t-shirts; smiling and scowling faces; bright and dull eyes; attentive and slouching at the wheel. All whisking past on their way somewhere.
Will their day affect my day? Are they going to the council buildings to make a decision on whether to patch the holes and bumps in my street? Or, perhaps, someone will make a choice to buy one of our laptops, thereby indirectly contributing to my well-being.
I received my copy of iPhoto ‘09 this morning and it immediately set to work finding faces in my photos. Sometimes this feature is a little off-base, however:
A few weeks ago, Des sent me an invite for Spotify, a music streaming application. In contrast to prior efforts I’ve seen, there is both a free (advert-supported) version and a subscription version for £9.99 which leaves out the adverts. Even better, there seems to be a good selection of artists on it.
The way it works is very simple. There’s just the usual play/pause/skip buttons and a search box. The homescreen has a top albums list and a small set of recommendations—I see plenty of ways they could improve the recommendations, like eMusic they seem rather lackluster. Last.fm really kicks their ass here.