Martyn Glanville: July 2008

Google car spotted in Denmark?

Image via WikipediaTHE MILD hysteria about Google photographing places at street level to enhance their mapping service might have spread to Denmark.

Well, it will if I have anything to do with it.

I was bumbling down the E55 towards Copenhagen yesterday afternoon when I spied a suspicious looking vehicle going far too slow. After spitting forth bile at the driver's poor ability, I noted a strange looking device atop the car.

Could it be?

I resolved to find out. I flicked an indicator drifted into the outside line and whizzed past the snail of a car, getting a good look at the strange, rotating and yes, camera-like device on its roof. I then returned to the inside lane and waited for the roving camera car to catch up. My speed dropped, 110km, 90km, finally 60km - a dangerous speed to cruise at on any motorway, and let me tell you, my pulse was racing, sweat silvering on my forehead as I diced with death and investigated The Man, watching as he came ever closer behind me.

Eventually, Google car couldn't stand my slow driving any longer and overtook.

Checkmate. My phone ready, as he passed and dropped in front of me, I started snapping. Difficult with a mobile phone and one eye on the road.

But here's where it gets weird, and all a bit Three Days of the Condor, Men In Black, or The Parallax View, depending on your view on conspiracies. See, as soon as I'd grabbed a few photos, the Google car (if indeed it was that) took off. And I mean really took off. The guy floored it and shot ahead so quickly, I lost him in the traffic that thickens as you approach the Copenhagen outskirts.

Had he seen me taking pictures? And did he see my licence plate? And who are the big goons standing in my office right now erasing my Nokia's contents?

Or maybe the car was nothing to do with Google, and it was doing
something entirely innocent. Here are the pictures. I'll let you decide. Me? I'm reaching for my tin foil hat.

PC comes out of hibernation

Image via WikipediaLAST NIGHT, I finally got around to firing up my old Dell, which I brought over from the UK a few months back.

I hadn't used it in two years. Fired the old girl up and it was like a little timewarp, a transportation back to the moment when I last shut it down. (I remember it well. Twas the day before we left the UK, the house was a warehouse of packing crates, and I'd copied every last byte of data onto a portable hard drive. Chaos. Wouldn't recommend it to anyone.)

First off, it was Firefox 1.0 or some similar early version. It was loaded with various toolbars I'd forgotten ever installing (Urban Dead toolbar!). It was pre-iGoogle or Netvibes, so I was using live bookmarks for my RSS, and most annoying of all, the close tab button was on the far right of the browser window, not on the tab itself like with more recent versions of FF. Incredibly annoying.

Still, I got a bit nostalgic, then swiftly upgraded to Firefox 3.o.

XP had some work to do as well. 53 updates! Chugg-chugg-chugg, it went. But after an hour's worth of updating, re-configuring, and re-installing, I was done. I didn't mind doing it, it was like getting a new machine and playing around with all the settings. I got stupidly excited when I realised I had four devices all wirelessly networked, and started moaning that the wife wasn't home so I could hook her Mac up as well. She rolled her eyes when I mentioned this.

I wonder why?

Drunken Swede tries to row home from Denmark

Image via WikipediaTHIS UNFORTUNATE chap will be mocked and laughed at for years to come, but you know what I say?

I say salute the sea-faring hero!

Show me the man who hasn't embarked upon a hairbrained scheme after a few too many sherberts. Why, I myself remember nearly killing myself as a youth walking home in the middle of winter one night in Croydon 20 years ago, far too many pints swilling around inside me, a worn Crombie overcoat keeping the cold at bay. I thought, as the temperature plunged ever lower, that wouldn't it be nice to just curl up in a quiet front garden and sleep.

I probably would have died from exposure.

Probably happens a lot every winter.

But this fella, hail him, a septuagenarian no less, decides to row five kilometres across the particularly busy and choppy Øresund, to his Swedish home. Not content with this feat of seamanship, I like best the fact that he gave up along the way and entrusted his fate to the tides and currents.

The Danes are loving this story, I am sure, given their penchant for slagging the Swedes and their drinking habits. But I think this man should be commended for his initiative. The Danes, I am sure, would have considered it for six months, hired a brace of overpaid consultants to investigate it, and then ask the world and his wife if it was ok.

I'm Popeye The Sailor Man

Worst song ever:

I'm Popeye The Sailor Man – Mark Mothersbaugh – Listen free at Last.fm