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Some work. I have a thing where people can type in a (UK) postcode to see what bus stops etc are near it. And it annoys me when those things demand an entire postcode, when the first few characters are sufficient to give a general gist of my location. But my own thing was guilty of the very thing I’m so annoyed by. Well, not anymore; adding the ability to search by just an “outcode”, as those prefixes are called, was pleasingly nice.
(Remember a quirk of the NHS COVID-19 app … if your postcode was “XX1 1XX”, it used to say you were in the “XX11” postcode district.)
A slight complication I discovered a bit later: turns out some strings like E2 and PE1 are both valid postcode outcodes and bus route numbers.
(Is that all this week? Pathetic.)
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My recflective bicycling jacket is so good at reflecting light that it activates those infrared sensors from a great distance – you know, the “touch free exit” buttons some buildings have, and the flushes of posh public toilets. I can tell you it’s annoying when a toilet flushes when you don’t want it to. In the loos at Waitrose, I stood at a urinal and my shiny coat turned on the taps across the room like there was a poltergeist about. (The sound of running water can make you want to pee, and what better place for it?)
But only certain parts of the lurid blouson are mirror-like enough; I need to work on the choreography of exiting this building so the door appears to open itself without my so much as looking at the door release button.
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Out to RHLSTP two evenings on the trot. As expected, the Joe Pasquale episode was remarkable, will go down in history, etc. Another highlight was leaving the room for a wee – partly thanks to the sound of rain on the theatre’s roof – and returning just as everyone was applauding the end of the first half.
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🍞 A few loaves have had an amusing air bubble in their crust, bulgy like a snake who’s swallowed a golf ball. (Pictured, with some damage from being extracted from the tin.) It’s unusual and I like it, but it’s really a sign of under-worked/under-proven dough, so I must do better.
This week I made an apple cake, the sort of cake that’s better the next day. And in the process I dropped my telephone on the floor and cracked the screen, which was unfortunate, but still I had an apple cake.