Wednesday Scribble

Well, now it is Wednesday and I’ve still not done the pivot tables. Such is life.
Today my baby (the Acer Tablet c110) and I went to a meeting. I opened my
journal and made copious notes. At the meeting – (present were The Minister,
Sir Humphrey, Bernard, and me [Baldric])- reference was made to the meeting I
was at last week when the secretary nicked my baby and took the minutes. I
was able to bring up that journal entry and check the facts and dates
written therein. Very efficient eh, what? It is so quick and easy to use –
just scribble away and draw flow charts and rub bits out, every minute taker
should have one.

Anyway, after all that excitement, it is back to the work
horse and time to get on with a bit of work before I can go back to starting
TWESB page 13. I need to get to page 18 before I hit the pivot tables bit,
but I don’t want to jump to it in case I miss something – presumably Richard
put the pages in that order for a reason. Its full title is
The World’s Shortest Excel Book and it really is short! 27 pages of great ideas.
I found the link on Lockergnome and it is worth
further investigation if you are a spreadsheet junkie. Lots of really useful
tips in one little book. If you need a question answered and it isn’t in
the book you can go to
Richard’s site and e-mail him.
I use a bit of it
every day for a treat. I get a real buzz when I learn something new, and
there are lots of new bits in it. I have never had time to wade through the
Excel manual and things have moved on since I was taught how to use
spreadsheets initially. Well, I was taught to use supercalc v3 in the DOS
days if you want the honest truth, but that is really showing my age is it
not? ;-)

I really have do some honest toil now. Freelancing means I can do what I
like when I like but when I really must work I just pretend someone is going
to pay me soon and that motivates me a bit. [Cyberdoyle, aka Baldric]

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Our resident "Bob" (pictured here through the lens of photographer Jason DeFillippo) is in love with a woman who talks to animals. He has a fondness for belting out songs about seafaring and whiskey (arguably inappropriate in most social situations). He's arm-wrestled robots and won. He was born in a lighthouse on the storm-tossed shores of an island that has since been washed away and forgotten, so he's technically a citizen of nowhere. He's never killed in anger. He once underwent therapy for having an alien in his face, but he assures us that he's now feeling "much better." Fogarty also claims that he was once marooned along a tiny archipelago and survived for months using only his wits and a machete, but we find that a little hard to believe.