4th January, 2018.
You know, I’m having a mixed kind of day off, today.
I’d had a internal hard drive I’d wanted rid of.
I’d replaced a two terabyte internal drive — one used for storage in an extra drive bay — with a four terabyte one.
And initially tried selling the old one at the Brentwood branch of CeX.
They couldn’t take it.
The store’s external hard drive enclosure, the device they used to check hard drives people were selling to them?
The store’s external hard drive enclosure, the device they used to check hard drives people were selling to them?
Had failed.
Not exactly reassuring.
And not repaired or replaced, when I looked in there, yesterday.
Which got me thinking, this morning, that a different branch of the company would take a perfectly serviceable, second hand hard drive.
So … ?
With enough money in hand to get a train ticket to Romford?
I went to the Romford branch, and sold it to them.
That, twenty quid in my pocket and my first and only McDonalds in years?
Left me feeling a bit better about the whole experience.
~≈§≈~
That’s not why I’m writing, though.
No, I’ve had a night off.
And something else for Christmas.
You’ve realised, by now, that I’m a long time fan of the British TV show, Dr Who.
Like many fans?
I knew about the episodes the show has lost.
Those that — like many Patrick Troughton and William Hartnell stories — were junked after airing.
Or, in the case of one Tom Baker story?
One that filming had started on …
But never completed, as a result of industrial action.
It’s that Tom Baker story I’m talking about.
I got a blu-ray copy of the famed, Douglas Adams penned, Shada, for Christmas.
Tonight?
Was my first chance to watch the serial that’s every fan’s been waiting to watch, for the past thirty-eight years.
~≈§≈~
