Row 46 is done, of the 50 needed for the top front of Relax2. I should be shaping shoulders this very evening.
Stephen West has posted another blog entry about his summer travels, but instead of
have him teaching on a Mediterranean knitting cruise. I have been thinking a
bit about Part I, to which I linked yesterday. What wonderful yarn shops you
have in Scotland ! America
It’s a big country, of course. But, gosh! StevenBe! KnitPurl in
where (amongst much else) they have
every colour of Shibui in every base! I don’t think shops like that exist in Portland . We
have Loop – I wish I had
had time to explore it, the day I was there for Britain ’s classes. We have many excellent
small shops with specialist yarns carefully chosen by intelligent proprietors.
But I think we lack the big showstoppers. Franklin
But maybe it’s just that I don’t get about much.
Yesterday’s event was a computer disaster. I’m still trembling.
My husband took some time off in the morning to write to our granddaughter Rachel in
. He saved the
note to Dropbox – or rather, I did; he still doesn’t know how to save a new
document – so that I could fetch it on my computer and add a photograph before
dispatching it. Beijing
And when this simple chore was completed, and he wanted to get back to work, we discovered that the entire folder he has been working on for weeks, was gone. With more than a hundred files in it. The system said I had deleted it, and that may be right, although I’m not sure the system can distinguish between us.
But the really terrifying consideration was, how can such a thing happen without so much as an are-you-sure from Dropbox or the operating system?
The missing folder wasn’t to be found in the Recycle Bin of either computer. Fortunately, Dropbox keeps copies. If there is a way to restore an entire folder at once, I didn’t discover it, but I could and did sit there for much of the afternoon restoring the files one at a time.
In the good old days of DOS – fairly recent, for us – my husband saved his work whenever he finished a document, and knew how to make a copy to an external floppy. That system saved our bacon two or three times in the last quarter of a century. A hard disk crash, a new machine, everything restored – he hardly noticed. Now that I can’t trust Dropbox, I’ll have to think out a new system.
It didn’t threaten the end of the world, yesterday’s crisis. My husband is currently making relatively minor verbal improvements in his work, nothing of substance. The earlier, unimproved version is well backed-up and printed-out. But I wouldn’t have cared to break the news to him that his summer’s work was lost.