Crash

Bill was lost.   His computer had died a slow and ignominious death during the course of yesterday,   He'd stopped work yesterday on more than one occasion to check that it was still rebuilding fifty million files, and he did seem a little concerned over the fact that all seemed to be lost.  Every episode of Dr Who was slowly being gobbled in a series of Windows checks, along with this writing and who knows what else.

His computer was it seems his confidant and friend and now without warning or back up it was gone.   

He wandered down from his camper car distraught and directionless, desperate to discover if the Dunfearnly Rangers and beaten the Haddock Tossers in the local league, and from the time we were able to determine that indeed they had, we were never sure if we were in his clutches or he in ours.

Chaos ruled with all our possessions, bedding and equipment temporarily displaced while the work is happening, but we were all oblivious to the mess.

Coffee and biscuits moved into lunch and not very long after that a pleasant afternoon tea as well, and all the while I was dismantling our former bed, screw by screw, staple by staple while Bill on his day off seemed to content to sit for five hours tutoring the finer points of the French language.

Tomorrow we shall start work again, on the wiring and the bed and while we are at it we'll try not to preach too much about the benefit of separate hard drives.