Ok, that looks a little better now. It looks like you can enter fünn¥ chårac†ers right at the kéybøard... although I don't know quite why.

[Rosie] Your question "Why does it work at MCiOS and not here?" has the very simple answer: "Dan is a much better programmer than me."

In this room it's 21°C. The Welsh for Snowdon is Yr Ŵyddfa. Good enough. You're an excellent programmer, rab.

I could do with a holiday. I'm fed up of being on the road to work before the sun even comes up!

I have unblocked a drain. The satisfaction of seeing the washbasin suddenly empty freely is curiously alike to that of a really satisfying bowel movement.

I'm having a clear-out... of the cupboard in my office, which I have never used, but lots of other people have, aince 2007, apparently. It's all going in the bin. My to-do list is limited this week (everyone seems to have taken an extra week off work, and as I'm the one they ask to work on their documents at the final stage then there's a lull until they all come back to work - which, judging by this morning's traffic jams and 20mph average speed on the all-motorway route to work, was this morning. Pffft.

don't you mean 30km/h, pen?

32 km/h (approximately).

Whatevs.

[pen] Do you car-share? Are you aware of its benefits? Driver or passenger? Would you prefer [Software]or [Rosie]? Are you going my way?

Whlle the Netherlands is pretty well set up with lots of carpool parking spaces adjacent to nearly every motorway junction, we've chosen to live just out of the usual commuting range for Rotterdam - south of the river, mate. (That's the Haringvliet). Our rural idyll means there's no-one nearby who works where I do, nor the hours I do. In fact, very few people live outside of the city. They think I'm weird.

(Bismarck) Car-sharing is a form of torture. I'd rather travel in a packed rush-hour train where anonymity rules and talking is taboo anyway. But in your own car that cannot hold. Anyone who spoke would be immediately shot. Of course this only applies to work journeys. Anything else - well, jump in.

I think my swearing at other drivers would quickly put anyone else off car sharing with me. Sometimes even I'm shocked at the foulness of it. The weekly offer in Aldi this week is a dashcam, and I considered buying one for a moment, before realising that it would mean my expletive-laden judgements would be there for all to hear.

(pen) My oaths are briefer than yours and I find myself thinking "you use that word too much."

[Rosie] Pants to that.

Why not use a dashcam but speak in mock Russian? Youtoob fail videos are twice as funny with someone shrieking "Smirnoff spetznatz gorky!" just as the four articulated trucks up ahead disintegrate into their component parts and show you that while you thought the traffic was doing around 50mph from the footage it is actually moving somewhere in the region of 110. In deep snow. In a near blizzard.

You could publish the footage as The Perils of Penelope Somewhere In Europe.

[Stevie] What a spiffing idea. I just need some friends to cause distractions along the route to work, thus causing a regular supply of accidents, as you suggest.

(Stevie) I like the ones where a colossally overloaded trailer of timber starts swinging from side to side then over it goes and the whole f****** issue lands in the ditch. Yes, I too am a time-waster.
(pen - ult) Oather than mine? Shurely not.

[pen] I don't see the need to contrive accidents. Annecdotal evidence suggests that the minute you turn on your dashcam some idiot will drive a tank across the highway narrowly missing you, or swerve in front of you with an unfeasible load of matresses and haybales lashed to his roof with lamentably poor knotwork.

Put in a rear dashcam and enjoy the immediate onslaught of cyclclists and motorbikers so caught up in the moment they have forgotten how perspective works.

For a few tens of pounds outlay I can visualize a time when your Yootoob channel brings in six figures from advertising, more than paying for the inevitable dent-knocking-outery and door replacement. Just remember to yell "Kremlin matryoshka gorbachev!" as you weave around the haybales and collide with one of those tricycle ice-cream things and it will all be gravy.

I've been working on an idea to lighten the mood when traffic accidents occur. Nothing sours the situation more than getting punched by an angry person with whom you have just collided at speed. I think the whole mood can be de-escalated by the addition of a proximity-triggered klaxon fitted behind the front grill that can scream "YeeeeeeeeeHaaaaaaaa!" as you swan into a Smart car or someone's BMW and give everyone's airbags and seat-belts a good work-out. I got the idea after listening to I Want My Baby Back from Kenny Everett's World's Worst Record.

[Rosie] Time spent watching overloaded cranes falling over or trucks drive under an overhead obstruction with the bed raised is not deducted form one's life span. In fact, I encourage such behaviour if only to counter those times spent trying to get a human being to intervene 'twixt you and the government (eg to sell you a new road tax disc) after which one tends to sag against the nearest bar and utter such truisms as "there's four hours I'll never get back".

Hook up your reversing camera to a large screen attached to the rear windscreen. Should cause endless fun.

I'm confused - facing out or facing in?

What a bloody week. I don't want to look back at it.

(Stevie) Is there any life deduction for watching leopards strangle warthogs prior to enjoying a tasty meal or watching hyenas ripping chunks out of a buffalo which only gives up when a considerable part of its inside has been removed. Incidentally, the word warthog looks Welsh to me and I always mutter it to myself as if it were. After all there is a genuine Welsh word arthog (short open "a", lightly trilled "r", "th" as in English) meaning bear-like and with the same figurative meaning as in English, i.e. bad-tempered. The plural of warthog would probably be warthogion though warthogoedd or warthogydd are possibilities. It's unlikely to be regular (warthogau).

There was nothing banging about Arthog last time I visited (probably early '50s) even vaguely resembling a bear. Perhaps a hill or the (very few) local residents presented a somewhat ursine appearance.

Wouldn't a Warthogion be a collection of Warthog folktales?

(Dujon) You must have missed the station which only existed because of the nearby touristy Arthog Hall. There is a steam engine named after it (No. 6993 if you must know) and I suspect the big brass nameplate is hanging up somewhere in the building.
(Stevie) Yeah, I like that.

No, I didn't miss the station, Rosie, as that is where I stayed for a week. Well, in the siding, in a camping coach. A staff-controlled single line that wended its way up the valley to who-knows-where, the whistle echoing off and around the hills, a mist hiding the already hidden places; a child's paradise. Geez I'm getting old. ;)

Rosie - how deep'n' desperate is this freezing easterly going to be? Wind is picking up here, and temp is dropping... (according to the neightbour over the road, whose weather station Tweets every couple of hours).

(Dujon) The line went to Dolgellau then up the hill and down again to Bala, Llangollen and joined the main line at Ruabon. Ten-coach holiday trains with two smallish engines laboured mightily up the bank. The line closed in 1965 but parts of it have been reopened under preservation with unrealistically clean shiny engines and a dismal speed restriction (25 mph).
(pen) Deep'n' desperate? Not very. Not for an easterly in February but it'll probably last a week. Not much snow if any. I'm not looking forward to it either.

It couldn't get more miserable here, weatherwise. Deep grey gloom, and temperatures hovering just under freezing. And I think I've just witnessed the stripping of my UK pension by a bunch of unprincipled Westminster turncoats. Bastards the lot of them.

(pen) Same weather here only one degree warmer. Light drizzle, mist and gloom. Lovely! Bad about your pension. Stay where you are though because 29% of Britons support Trump, further evidence of our widespread knuckle-scraping ignorance. If I were younger I'd seriously consider moving somewhere a little more at ease with itself.

And lots of it. Stayed home sick. Really sick, but no-one will believe me.

Howling winds making everyone in the house nervous. Outside the house the wind is picking up too. Still snowing. 7 inches or so so far, but it has drifted halfway up the front door.

Yesterday's storm was interesting. I took a trip there and back across the Oude Maas river by water taxi at the height of her gustiness. Our original choice of dock was too exposed to wind and waves for it to pick us up safely, so we had to walk a bit further up to a calmer one. Exhilarating.

How can they call a storm Doris? It's a genteel upper middle-class name from the 20's. My piano teacher as a kid was called Doris, Doris Austin (pron. Awstin). My parents knew a few Dorises - they were awfully nice. The Crystal Palace full-back in the '60's was Martin Hinshelwood, nicknamed Doris. It was not a compliment.

I heard they were alphabetically naming them after people in the Met Office. I shall Google.