bookmark_borderAnd then … silence

Stuck. Typing words, empty sentences.

Repeat.

Stuck. Typing words, empty sentences.

Looming large in my view, static, unmoving. Quietly threatening, taunting. It will not move.

Smash it down. Nothing reaches.

Sneak around it. It has no end.

Coax it gently. The empty space booms back.

Typing and typing. Writing and writing. Delete. Repeat.

Typing, typing, typing. The space recedes.

Slowly.

All progress is false.

The space recedes.

All progress is false.

Then what? Not an end, never an end. It won’t allow it.

But a block. Yes, a block. Temporary but distinct. Un-importantly annoying.

I type on. The window fills. A post. Publish. The block remains.

Maybe tomorrow.

Posted in UncategorizedTagged

bookmark_borderRoutine

Louise is flying to Spain on Sunday to spend the week with her Dad, he’s a wee bit under the weather at the moment and is thoroughly looking forward to seeing his baby girl. His baby girl is equally excited, if not moreso.

What that means is that I have a week to myself, a week in which I will, no doubt, develop my own routine free from any need to be considerate. Whilst I will miss my darling wife whilst she is away, if I’m really honest I will enjoy a week of ‘freedom’. I’ve only ever lived on my own for a couple of months, but didn’t really appreciate it at the time (for a variety of “not good” reasons), so whenever I get the chance to live like a bachelor I tend take full advantage and get into my own routine.

So, from Sunday night it’ll be nothing but booze, burds and bingeing! WOOHOOOO!! I’ve already got the industrial cleaners booked, and they are getting a big fat bonus if they keep their traps shut and ignore anything untoward that is strewn about… drugs, half-naked women, goats…

OK. Not goats.

OHHH OK. Not drugs or half-naked women either.

Alas my middle-aged, middle-class life doesn’t contain such excitement these days. Although if I’m honest it never really contained that many goats in the first place.

Or drugs.

Or half-naked women come to think of it.

(hey, come on, my Mum reads this…)

No, instead I’ll be using this week to establish a new item into my routine. I can hardly wait.

You see, since starting my new job in January, I’ve been getting up around 6 am mainly to avoid the worst of the traffic on my new commute, and have long planned to use the extra time to try going for a run in the morning. I am not a morning person, but as there are showers at work, and the area surrounding the office is reasonably flat (as opposed to the large hill at the top of which I live), it’s an ideal opportunity to up my mileage (kilometreage?).

So yes, I’ll be getting up at 6am prompt and trying to fit in one, or maybe two, extra runs this coming week. That’s the plan at least.

Unless anyone has a goat I can borrow…

bookmark_borderWordPress permissions

Because I said I would and because this type of thing is still very much a “black art” as far as I’m concerned (networking in general falls into that category), here are the permissions I have set in my WordPress install.

This is what I have setup for my WordPress Theme folder (wp-content/themes/MYTHEME/) but I guess it’s likely to be similar if you have a custom WordPress install. I had loads of problems not being able to edit files through the WordPress admin interface, and various timeouts and 404 errors. I’ve not had any problems since I did the following:

Set the permissions (CHMOD for tech speak users) for the theme, or WordPress, FOLDER to 755.
Set the permissions for all the FILES in that folder to 776.

And that should help. Maybe. As ever with these things, YMMV.

To do this using FileZilla users, connect to your site, then right-click a folder or file, and select File Attributes. In the dialog that is displayed, type in the appropriate number and click OK.

Here’s hoping it helps. Someone.

bookmark_borderAnd then… silence

Stuck. Typing words, empty sentences.

Repeat.

Stuck. Typing words, empty sentences.

Looming large in my view, static, unmoving. Quietly threatening, taunting. It will not move.

Smash it down. Nothing reaches.

Sneak around it. It has no end.

Coax it gently. The empty space booms back.

Typing and typing. Writing and writing. Delete. Repeat.

Typing, typing, typing. The space recedes.

Slowly.

All progress is false.

The space recedes.

All progress is false.

Then what? Not an end, never an end. It won’t allow it.

But a block. Yes, a block. Temporary but distinct. Un-importantly annoying.

I type on. The window fills. A post. Publish. The block remains.

Maybe tomorrow.