At work, we recently switched expenses system to one with virtual credit card functionality. I decided to test it out by buying myself lounge access for my upcoming work trip to Mexico.
Unfortunately the new system mis-detected my lounge access as being a purchase from lingerie company loungeunderwear.com. I’m expecting a ping
from Finance any moment to ask me why I’m using a company credit card to buy a bra.
One might ask why our expenses provider can (mis-)identify loungeunderwear.com from a transaction in the first place. Did somebody at some company that uses this provider
actually buy some ladies’ briefs on a company credit card at some point?
The eldest is really getting into her WW2 studies at school, so I arranged a trip for her and a trip to the ever-excellent Bletchley Park for a glimpse at the code war that went on
behind the scenes. They’re clearly looking forward to the opportunity to look like complete swots on Monday.
Bonus: I got to teach them some stories about some of my favourite cryptanalysts. (Max props to the undersung Mavis Batey!)
The YouTube channel @simonscouse has posted exactly two videos.
The first came a little over ten years ago. It shows a hand waving and then wiggling its fingers in front of a patterned wallpaper:
The second came a little over five years ago, and shows a hand – the same hand? – waving in front of a painting of two cats while a child’s voice can be heard in the background:
In a comment on the latter, the producer promised that it’s be “only
another 5 years until the trilogy is completed”.
Where’s the third instalment, Simon? We’re all waiting to see it!
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
A round of especially-crazy zoomies on the morning of this Twenty-Sixth of Bleptember was apparently too much for this little pupper, who’s now looking like she’s in need of a morning
nap.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
The Twenty-Fourth of Bleptember will go down as a Good Day in the diary of our warmth-loving dog. It was finally cold and autumnal enough that we lit the fireplace, affording her the
opportunity to snuggle up as close to it as we’d permit her too.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
It looks like a rainstorm is imminent this Twenty-First of Bleptember, but that won’t stop this optimistic blepper from waiting near the front door in case anybody’s willing to take for
a walk.
(She hates the rain, but sometimes if she’s found it to be pouring down out the back door she’ll insist on checking out the front door to see if it’s raining there too.)
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
When she’s in need of some love and attention, like this Twentieth of Bleptember, my dog will place herself underfoot at my desk. She won’t necessarily put her blep away, though.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
She might not have completely slept through me serving her a dog treat this Nineteenth of Bleptember, but our dog was still dozy enough from her nap that she didn’t notice for a while
that I’d placed it directly onto her bleppy tongue. 😅
