Hard drive failure

There are, at rough count, about fifteen hard drives in my flat. One of them just died. Which one? Er… my main backup drive, that gets an incremental from my PowerBook every Saturday morning.

That’s… that’s not good, is it? Eeek!

So, now I’m frantically backing up before I catch the morning’s red-eye to Stanstead. Ugh ugh ugh.


  1. Hard drives. Don’t talk to me about hard drives.

  2. Oooh! Ooooh! If you work in science telly, then you have maintain tradition by telling us “How many Encuclopedia Brittanica’s that is.” (fifteen hard drives, I mean).

  3. Trouble is, the youth of today don’t have a clue what the Encyclopaedia Britannica is. And you can’t really compare things to Wikipedia, oddly.

  4. Hmm. I just remembered another five hard drives, none of which are large enough to be of any consequence. Funny how things that seemed gigantic only a decade ago have been rendered so utterly obsolete. All the same, I could really use a couple of spare terabytes right about now. Humph.

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