DIY Techno-hacks
Old hard drive platters make wonderfully good drinks coasters - they look dead smart and expensive and you've stopped people reading your old data into the bargain.
Have you taped all your remotes together, peep-show-style? Have you wired your doorbell to the toilet? What enterprising DIY have you done with technology?
Extra points for using sellotape rather than solder.
( , Thu 20 Aug 2009, 12:30)
Old hard drive platters make wonderfully good drinks coasters - they look dead smart and expensive and you've stopped people reading your old data into the bargain.
Have you taped all your remotes together, peep-show-style? Have you wired your doorbell to the toilet? What enterprising DIY have you done with technology?
Extra points for using sellotape rather than solder.
( , Thu 20 Aug 2009, 12:30)
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Murderous Landlady?
My first ever flat! A huge and exciting step in any girl's life! (I had lived away from home before, in a somehow increasingly bizarre series of bedsits / houseshares with lovely or mad or alcoholic or alcoholic and mad people, but those are waiting for QOTWs suitable for vomit in washing machine stories.)
Anyway, the flat was, in retrospect, a severely dodgy propect. It was a huge ancient house carved out very crudely into three addresses. All the bills were included, and the landlady lived in Germany mostly, usually employing a local 'craftsman' (leering predatory halfwit) to oversee the property. But it was cheap and full of sunshine, and a teenage Magenta jumped right in, squeaking girly joyful squeakings.
The bathroom was HUGE, a big selling point to a girl used to sharing one in a cupboard with too many unhygienic people. There was an ancient shower over bath setup, and I had honestly asked when shown around exactly why there was a half stripped wire hanging out of the wall next to it. The landlady airily assured me that there used to be a lit cabinet there (right next to the shower?) but the wire was now dead and not at all dangerous. At all. Really. Right.
A few days later I'm painting happily away in there (the decoration throughout was bizarre, but bright clean white is cheap and cheerful) and nudge the wire out of the way with the end of my paintbrush, which was thankfully made of wood. One huge bang, some sparks and smoke and a lot of weirdly threatening fizzling noises result, plus a distinct lack of electricity anywhere in my flat or apparently the building. This leads to a teenage Magenta sat sobbing on the stairs into her mobile to her grandad the electrician, who arrives post haste and is VERY CROSS INDEED.
The bathroom wire was live mains. Right next to the shower head. Just a little bit dangerous?
When the landlady was contacted, now back in Germany, she tried to tell my grandad that this was common back there, because the mains power was weaker. Not "I'm sorry for nearly murdering your grandaughter." My grandad sorted out the wire. She never did apologise, but did go on to arrive from Deutschland unexpectedly and LET HERSELF IN while I was in bed. Cow.
( , Sat 22 Aug 2009, 11:01, 1 reply)
My first ever flat! A huge and exciting step in any girl's life! (I had lived away from home before, in a somehow increasingly bizarre series of bedsits / houseshares with lovely or mad or alcoholic or alcoholic and mad people, but those are waiting for QOTWs suitable for vomit in washing machine stories.)
Anyway, the flat was, in retrospect, a severely dodgy propect. It was a huge ancient house carved out very crudely into three addresses. All the bills were included, and the landlady lived in Germany mostly, usually employing a local 'craftsman' (leering predatory halfwit) to oversee the property. But it was cheap and full of sunshine, and a teenage Magenta jumped right in, squeaking girly joyful squeakings.
The bathroom was HUGE, a big selling point to a girl used to sharing one in a cupboard with too many unhygienic people. There was an ancient shower over bath setup, and I had honestly asked when shown around exactly why there was a half stripped wire hanging out of the wall next to it. The landlady airily assured me that there used to be a lit cabinet there (right next to the shower?) but the wire was now dead and not at all dangerous. At all. Really. Right.
A few days later I'm painting happily away in there (the decoration throughout was bizarre, but bright clean white is cheap and cheerful) and nudge the wire out of the way with the end of my paintbrush, which was thankfully made of wood. One huge bang, some sparks and smoke and a lot of weirdly threatening fizzling noises result, plus a distinct lack of electricity anywhere in my flat or apparently the building. This leads to a teenage Magenta sat sobbing on the stairs into her mobile to her grandad the electrician, who arrives post haste and is VERY CROSS INDEED.
The bathroom wire was live mains. Right next to the shower head. Just a little bit dangerous?
When the landlady was contacted, now back in Germany, she tried to tell my grandad that this was common back there, because the mains power was weaker. Not "I'm sorry for nearly murdering your grandaughter." My grandad sorted out the wire. She never did apologise, but did go on to arrive from Deutschland unexpectedly and LET HERSELF IN while I was in bed. Cow.
( , Sat 22 Aug 2009, 11:01, 1 reply)
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