Caliban - Opinion and Righteous Anger

A couple of days ago, the day of a long-waited concert finally rolled around. Last October, I purchased tickets for the stage production of Jeff Wayne's Musical Version Of The War Of The Worlds at the tackily named and shamelessly over-commercialised Heineken Music Hall, here in Amsterdam. I don't think I've ever purchased tickets that far in advance of an event before.

The multi-platinum album has been in my collection for some 30 years now. Nary a human-being, never mind an inanimate object, has featured so consistently throughout the passage of my life.

Although the music on the album sounds dated now (particularly the wah-wah of the rhythm guitar), the story is as fresh and compelling today as when the book was first published. And, whilst the music clearly hails from the seventies with its fusion of disco rhythms and bombastic prog-rock tendencies, it's still eminently enjoyable.

I bought a couple of singles from the album back in 1978/79, but it wasn't until a school trip to Rome with my Latin class that I was exposed to the whole album; repeatedly, incessantly, in the coach on the way there and then back again, so that the listening experience became inextricably linked with that one, brief period in the space and time of my lost youth.

Listening to it now, therefore, is not only an enjoyable and meritorious musical experience in its own right, but inevitably also a nostalgic excursion to a period of my life now so far removed that it, too, seems little more than vivid fiction.

The stage show has never travelled to continental Europe before. The performance in Amsterdam was to be the only one of its kind at the end of a UK tour, but the tickets sold out so quickly that another night was soon added. Somewhat later, a third performance was tacked onto the schedule, along with a night or two in Oberhausen, Germany.

Reviews of the stage production can be found all over the Internet, so I won't go into detail here. Suffice it to say that I was blown away, particularly by how faithfully the sound of the album had been reproduced. That's due, perhaps, to a decent number of the original recording cast having been contracted for the stage show, with Jeff Wayne himself conducting.

Sarah, too, for whom the music was basically an unknown quantity, enjoyed herself immensely.

After the concert, we picked up a copy of that very evening's concert on CD and headed home, where Mina had been babysitting for us.

To our amazement, she had managed to put both children to bed with very little fuss and they had slept soundly for almost the entire evening, Lucas awakening only once, briefly, for a quick grumble before going back to sleep.

I ripped the CDs and we were listening to the performance again the very next morning. The quality of the mix was incredibly good and I'm very impressed by the fact that Concert Live can have CDs of a show on sale within fifteen minutes of the final note having been struck. That's no mean feat and there's no better memento of a gig than a high-quality recording of it.

The third night's performance will be broadcast live tonight by Radio 2 and won't cost you a thing.

Here I am again at Audi, waiting for summer and air-conditioning checks to be carried out in preparation for our trip.

The fan in the car actually started growling after I made the appointment to have the airco checked over, as if the car knew that now was the time to start throwing in the towel.

At the start of the drive here, the electrically driven side mirrors decided not to fold in or out any more, so now those have to be looked at, too. The more electronics in a car (or anything else, for that matter), the more that go wrong. Still, better now than a week from now, when we'll be in the Baltics.

I wanted to title this entry Waiting Room, but the computer here wanted to complete the title for me, revealing that I must have used that title the last time I blogged from here. I'm nothing if not consistent, is one possible conclusion.

The dining-room ceiling was repainted yesterday, along with the kitchen and living-room ceilings, too, because they run seamlessly into the dining-room. I must say, the painters did a nice job; better than the gang we had in last time.

We're almost back to normal. Tomorrow afternoon, the lamps will be rehung over the table and the smoke detector reseated.

At that point, it'll be as if the leak had never happened. Well, almost. There are a few tell-tale signs of the trauma that the ceiling has endured: the painted surface is visibly rougher in a couple of places and there are some slight seams at the edges of the former hole, where the filler meets the original ceiling.

All in all, though, I'm amazed that there's so little evidence of the very intrusive work that was done. Everyone involved in the chain of repair has done an impressive job. That fact alone is quite surprising to me. We've had a very good contractor orchestrating the repair and I must say that it's been great to be insulated from the process by this fellow. I've had to deal only with him and he has organised and dealt with everyone who needed to be brought in.

That's how it should work, of course, but all too often, I find myself fulfilling the role of project manager. It's been particularly nice to have a different experience this time, given the complexity of finding and fixing the problem. There's been a minimum of fuss and the work has been completed quite quickly. It's great to be able to leave on holiday this Sunday without any fear of the state we'll find the place in on our return.

With our trip to the Baltics just around the corner, I was contemplating the many kilometres of driving ahead and this soon had me recalling our trip across central Europe in 2006. In particular, I clearly remember how our sat-nav system thought we'd fallen off the edge of the earth when we entered Hungary. Map coverage in Czechia and Slovakia was also decidedly spotty. The latter country had no coverage at all outside of the capital, Bratislava.

In the case of the Baltic states, I knew that these countries weren't covered at all by our system. That's hardly surprising, because the DVD containing the maps identifies itself as being for western Europe.

That rather implies that there are other DVDs available for other regions of the continent, so I went looking on-line to see if I could find a reference to one for the area in which we're interested.

I soon made the pleasant discovery that the 2009 Audi navigation DVD has an expanded country list that includes the Baltic states. The bad news is that Audi charges a ridiculous amount of money for an a copy of the uodated DVD: between €200-300, depending on how generous they're feeling.

I paid this fee a couple of years ago, when Audi were offering a special deal, whereby they would update your MMI (Multi Media Interface, the car's software user interface) to the latest version and supply you with the latest sat-nav DVD for a single, reduced price . This combination deal was being offered because Audi had just released a localised MMI translation for the Dutch market, along with spoken navigation directions in the Dutch language.

This isn't the kind of money I feel is reasonable to demand for annual incremental improvements to the map coverage, however, so I decided that I would scout around on-line and try to find a copy of the 2009 DVD by other means.

As you might expect. it didn't take very long.

Whilst looking for the item in question, I also discovered that my MMI was now long out-of-date; hardly surprising, really, since it had been two years since Audi performed the last one.

So, in addition to the DVD image I'd found, I also downloaded three CD images containing the latest MMI software. With information gleaned from a couple of Audi Web forums, I now possessed the necessary knowledge to initiate the update process.

Flashing your digital camera or PlayStation is one thing, but the prospect of bricking one's car had me slightly more nervous than I would normally be at the prospect of installing new firmware on a piece of hardware. My nervousness only increased as the update got under way, with the software issuing grave warnings against causing any fluctuations in the supply voltage, for example by operating the windows or sun-roof.

Everything went smoothly, however, and I can report that our car is now running the very latest version of the MMI: 55.7.0 0835.

Immeasurably more pleasing, however, is that our sat-nav now boasts coverage of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia. Quite how good that coverage actually is, though, will become apparent in a matter of a week or so. I suspect that only certain cities will be covered, with few, if any, interconnecting roads. Still, anything's better than nothing.

While searching for information on Audi MMI software updates, I came across a couple of interesting postings that indicated that one's battery charge level indicator could disappear from the MMI after applying an update. This was interesting to me, because mine had disappeared two years earlier when Audi applied the last update.

I had noticed this immediately and queried Audi as to the reason. They told me that the battery meter had been removed from the latest version of the software, because it was considered unreliable.

Imagine my surprise when I read in this Audi enthusiasts' forum that the loss of the battery meter was actually an expected, if undesirable side-effect of applying the MMI update, and that an Audi technical service bulletin (TSB), issued at the time to guide official Audi mechanics through the specifics of the new software release, indicates that the battery meter is turned off by default in the new version. In other words, it needs to be reenabled after updating.

Not only that, but a second MMI feature that allows instrument cluster settings to be modified turned out to have disappeared at the same time as the battery meter. I never use that menu, though, so I'd never noticed that it was missing until I read about it in the forum.

The main point here, of course, is that Audi had carried out the update improperly. The two features in question should have been manually restored after updating the MMI two years ago. Does no-one RTFM these days?

Further reading taught me that the missing features can be restored without the intervention of an Audi dealer. One needs only a laptop, some software and the means to connect the laptop to the car.

Needless to say, the prospect of being able to hack my own car was one that I stoically managed to resist for all of 24 hours.

Within a few days, the required cable had arrived from the US and I excitedly headed out to the car to connect my laptop to the same port used by Audi dealers to connect their much more expensive VAS 5051/5052 diagnostic computers.

A few minutes later, the missing menu entries were restored. I also took the time to enable a hidden MMI menu that allows access to a number of low level MMI settings. I can get to this menu now by holding down the CAR + SETUP buttons for five seconds.

Finally, I ran a diagnostics check of all of the control modules installed in the car. Checking these is the first thing Audi does if you take your car to the garage with some kind of complaint. Of course, Audi charges by the hour, so time spent diagnosing problems costs you as much as time spent fixing them. Using my new gear, I can find out which modules, if any, are indicating faults, before I even call Audi to make an appointment.

As it turns out, I found multiple fault conditions that Audi had failed to clear on previous visits to the garage, including some caused by them when they had decoupled certain systems in order to work on the car.

Normally, one has no insight into this kind of thing and simply has to assume that everything is being performed expertly and by the book. The missing MMI features and the failure to clear fault conditions indicate to me that the situation at an average Audi garage isn't any better than at any other place where one would hope to find technical expertise and methodical work practices.

As usual, if you want a job done well, you have to do it yourself. There's a very real limit to my expertise with the car, of course and tt ends well before the electronics turn into the mechanics. It's not as if I don't need the garage any more. On the other hand, I have, at least, managed to fix the problem that I set out to fix.

If I had called Audi about the problem, it's possible they would have continued to claim that the menus in question were no longer available in this release of the software. It's equally plausible that they might have been reluctant to hook up the car to their computer to fix the problem. And, of course, it's not unthinkable that they might have simply been unable to fix it, due to the same lack of knowledge that caused the problem in the first place. It would be an awkward conversation in which I had to refer Audi to their own internal bulletin in order to educate them about the solution for my problem.

From my little excursion into the inner workings of the car's brain, it's clear that a good mechanic has to be at least as competent in the field of system administration. That's hardly surprising, of course, because for years now, computers have been taking over more and more functions of the car and an increasingly large number of faults can now be diagnosed with and fixed in software alone.

Unfortunately, the ever-expanding skill set required to maintain the modern car obviously isn't something that we, the consumer, can take for granted. For that reason, being able to make simple changes in software and run diagnostic checks is a very welcome addition to the home toolbox, to say nothing of the satisfying hacker experience of hooking up a laptop to your car.

My attention has recently been focussed on getting our leak fixed, so much so that I haven't found myself in the right frame of mind to think about a summer holiday. Sarah, on the other hand, has been nagging me to get my head around the idea.

With most of the work to repair the damage caused by the leak now completed, I feel comfortable about the prospect of leaving the house behind for a few weeks and losing myself in the escapism of unfamiliar surroundings.

And so it is that we resurrect last year's idea of a trip to the Baltic states. The idea was put on ice last year when my biological father suddenly surfaced and a trip to Ireland became the obvious thing to do last summer.

Usually, if a destination isn't visited within a few months of conceiving the plan to do so, it falls by the wayside and is replaced by some new idea. This time, though, that hasn't happened; perhaps because we haven't been discussing holidays recently at all.

The original idea was to take the ferry from Germany to Denmark and drive from there to Stockholm, where we'd board another ferry to Helsinki. However, that's a lot of driving, just to get to what is actually merely the start location.

Instead, we're going to board the ferry in Germany and sail to Lithuania. From there, we'll drive up through Latvia and Estonia, where we'll make a round-trip ferry crossing to Helsinki. Once back in Estonia, we'll drive back south through Latvia and Lithuania, then through northern Poland and Germany, back to Amsterdam.

Altogether, the trip will total somewhere between 5000 and 6000 km across six countries, four of which I've never been to before. An equal number wll be new for Sarah, too, although she's been to Poland and I've been to Finland a couple of times.

If possible, we're also going to try to get into the Russian exclave of Kaliningrad, but it remains to be seen whether we can wangle the necessary visas in Lithuania. There's also the issue of car insurance, as we're not covered in Russia.

We leave a week today, overnighting in Germany the first day in order to catch a ferry the next day that would otherwise require a nocturnal departure from Amsterdam.

We don't have much booked apart from the night in Germany, the first ferry crossing and a hotel in Riga, the Latvian capital. As is both our wont and ideal modus operandi, we'll be making it up as we go along.

Our reclusive, vexatious leak has finally been tracked down.

A professional leak detection company, called in by our insurance company, came in with infra-red equipment and a very impressive-looking endoscope and proceeded to go poking around the house.

Eventually, the leak was tracked down with the endoscope to the most obvious area, directly above the brown stains on the dining-room ceiling. The workman showed me the image picked up by the endoscope and I could see translucent beads reflecting light. According to the workman, these were unmistakably droplets of water on a copper pipe. I had to take his word for it, because, to me, they looked like lens flare.

A few days later, the workmen I'd brought on board to fix the leak came in and started removing a big chunk of the dining-room ceiling. I quickly left the room when the work got under way, because, quite apart from the dust and other debris flying around the room from the plaster and insulation, I find the spectacle of a part of our house being destroyed vaguely stressful.

After a while, the contractor came and found me to show me the work they had done. A gaping rectangular hole now loomed above the dining-room table. Pipes and conduits led from holes in the upper layer of plywood and crossed the space to some unseen destination. Water stains were clearly visible on this plywood layer, as well as on the beams.

Unfortunately, though, the source of the actual leak remained a mystery. The water had clearly come from above the plywood layer, which meant that it was actually located somewhere in the bathroom on the first floor, not in the ceiling. The ceiling was simply where the water was ending up, because there was nowhere else to go until the ceiling tore.

Interestingly. there was also no sign of the alleged copper pipe that had supposedly shown drops of water on the endoscope's screen.

This was quite a downer. Not only had the leak not been found, but its origin lay somewhere in the bathroom, where there are no visible pipes. That spelt more destruction upstairs.

Since the leak had previously reared its head three times, but only while we were on holiday, we were now forced, as a last resort, to emulate the circumstances of such an absence. This meant putting the thermostat in holiday mode, which effectively meant shutting off the heating and the hot water supply. It was warm outside, so maintaining a comfortable temperature in the house wasn't a problem. It did, however, entail embarking on a period of cold showers.

Sure enough, after a couple of days, drops of water finally started to fall from the hole in the ceiling. This time, I was glad, because the leak was revealing itself; somewhat.

The water was emanating from a hole in the the plywood board, around the area of the worst staining. This confirmed what we already strongly suspected, namely that the leak was somewhere in the bathroom on the first floor.

I went upstairs to the only area of accessible pipes, behind the shower cabinet. I unscrewed the wooden panel that provides access to the shower's steam generator unit and dangled a builder's lamp down the inside of the wall.

After threading my fingers through and around various obstacles that I could barely negotiate, I felt a sudden drip of water.. and then another... and then another.

It was a minor miracle. The leak had been found in the one tiny area of the bathroom that could just about be examined without hammering holes in the wall.

A couple of days later, the workmen returned and I showed them where I had found the leak. They then sawed a hole in the bathroom wall to reveal the pipes and, sure enough, there was a dripping valve at the back. Quite why someone had felt it necessary to install a valve in a place where it's physically impossible to bleed the system is a puzzle that none of us has been able to solve.

In fact, there were actually three of these valves and two of them were leaking. The plumber removed all three of them and plugged the connectors to which they had been attached.

Downstairs, the workmen stuffed the dining-room ceiling with new insulation and covered it with plasterboard. That was a week ago.

Today, they came back and plastered over the boards, sealing the hole and creating a smooth and seamlessly even surface with the old ceiling. They also placed a wooden hatch over the hole in the bathroom wall upstairs, which is conveniently located between two shelves in a storage niche, so it won't require further repair work.

Next week, the painter comes to paint over the plasterboard, at which point the ceiling should theoretically be as good as new again. I'll be amazed if no visible trace remains of the demolition they performed in that spot.

It's a great relief to have finally found this stubborn leak. First we thought our leaking boiler had caused the damage, so we had the boiler repaired and the ceiling painted, but then it happened again. This time, we thought it was a leaking towel radiator, so we had that repaired, too. Then it happened again, only worse then ever, with the ceiling actually bursting on this occasion.

Assuming there isn't a fourth leak somewhere, we've finally got the bastard. Now we can go on holiday without fearing what kind of carnage will greet us on our return, although I suspect we won't truly believe the problem is fixed until we get back from our next holiday and find the house in the same state we left it.

Do you want to know how to make yourself feel old?

Fire up Rock Band 2 on your PS3, hit the network for an On-line Tour and find yourself some bandmates. Last night, my band found itself performing with a singer in Massachusetts and a bass player in Washington.

After a while, we enquired about one another's age; and so it was revealed that the singer of my band was just 11 years old, and the bass player an impressive 15.

At 3 in the morning, you suddenly feel quite old when you realise you're playing a plastic guitar in a virtual band with a singer whose voice hasn't even broken yet. That kid's barely a quarter of my age and only seven years older than Eloïse .

At the same time, this illustrates how unbelievably cool, powerful and social the Internet is.

I've finally found the urge to sort through the photos of our recent trip to Istanbul and caption a few of them.

Looking through them really does make me want to get right back on the plane to Turkey. What a trip.