Away from her

Elder daughter is criss-crossing Norway with a friend who has resided there for the past few years, a dream-trip twice postponed by circumstances financial and pandemic. Yesterday, she found herself in Oslo's Deichman bibliotek, the largest library in Norway, and confronted with a Canadian (and Victorian) connection.

Nine years ago, I wrote about my brief encounter with Alice Munro. She died about a dozen days ago, and readers across the country mourned, even though she had been sidelined by dementia.  Her short stories remain, though: wry, pointed, and bleakly funny.

I bet Norwegians really got her, I texted elder daughter this morning.

Hackers in Hades

So, yesterday, I was rather pleased with myself.  I'd managed to publish a blog-post, something I've been not doing enough lately.  I'm under no illusions that I have much of an audience, you understand; this blog was always for my own satisfaction.

Still, I took a few moments to look back on some recent entries ("recent" being a relative term) and, on a whim, clicked one of my own links, leading back to an older post.

I was horrified to find myself on an unfamiliar "Blogger" profile, featuring a message saying my link wouldn't work for "this blog", which appeared to be entitled "Ostitnotesfromhades".  The profile was some entity called "Nag", no information about them, except that s/he hosted five blogs, "Ostitnotesfromhades" being one of them.

I don't claim to be all that tech-savvy, but I knew better than to click on any of those links.

Unnerved, I set about reporting "Nag" to Blogger.  What particularly worried me is that "Nag"'s homepage appears to be on a Google account under my old Hades email address.  This is because my blog has remained there since 2007 -- mainly because I've never discovered how to change this. If Blogger tries to contact me, the messages will go to a dormant email account, which may make me look suspicious.

I then set about the irritating process of changing my Google password for that old account, and the even more annoying procedure of introducing two-step verification. Then I shut more barn doors, by going to the older blog post with the nasty, "Nag"-ated link and switching it to "edit" mode to remove it from the blog without deleting it.  (I was able to find it by doing a keyword search.) And I simply deleted the link on the more recent post, but I have a sinking feeling I may need to go through all the 1500 or so entries and check for any links back to my blog.

I think, from a flash of a map, while I was doing these things, that "Nag" may be burrowed somewhere in Australia.  He may also be burrowed somewhere in this blog, or even in the old Google account.  

Hello, "Nag", you insect.  You're not at all welcome.

So I may not be here tomorrow.  Or today -- it's already tomorrow in Australia.

How depressing.  Hackers really do belong in Hades.

Spelling counts

It's cold for May, and I'm willing myself up a hill.

Well, it's hardly a hill, just one of those barely perceptible inclines that make you wonder why on earth you're feeling tired.  My steps feel somewhat off-balance, and I tighten one strap of my packsack to redress the balance.

Halfway up, I spot a man in a dark green hoodie, standing in the sidewalk, head bent over his phone.  I note the baseball cap under the hood, but can't make out his face.  I feel a slight whisper of anxiety, and bend my path around him, giving him a wide berth.

"Excuse me," I hear him say as I pass, and I keep going, thinking that perhaps he's apologising for taking up the sidewalk.  This is Canada, after all.

"Excuse me," he repeats.  I stop and return.

"Just a random question.  How do you spell 'guitar'?"

I feel myself smiling.  "G-U-I-T-A-R."

He raises his phone.  "And there it is; it came right up!"

I giggle, and turn to continue.

"Thanks!" I hear him call.  

I revolve in the also barely perceptible rain.  "It's not often I can solve a problem so simply!"

"You have a great day," he says.

I head home, feeling less burdened and footsore.

We've both turned into human beings.