April 6th, 2008


I see tickets...

Or not.

I did actually see the "book now" link! But when I followed it, it went back to the "EPIC FAIL" page. The one where the seetickets homepage doesn't explain to anybody who might not be interested in Glastonbury tickets

Good luck to anybody else who's trying to get through...


ETA: I have bought tickets for me and my mum. Now trying to use the spare booking windows I had open for other people!

ETA: Okay, look, I can fairly reliably get a booking window up, but when you hit submit (with reg no, or even with cc details etc) it can still bounce you back to the 'busy' screen, leaving you with no idea whether you've submitted anything. FAIL FAIL FAIL. I am very reluctant to take responsibility for other people's bookings when it is this flaky, after possibly screwing up mpinna's. But if you want me to try, let me know....

ETA I am not trying again for anybody because it is ALL THE FAIL. It should not be able to reset the connection while submitting your credit card details, and if it does, then it should be bloody clear on whether or not this means your booking has gone through. As it is, the registration numbers all come up as "already used" but there's no indication that the payment has been accepted. ARGH.

See tickets? That's crap, that is.

Look, really, though, I reckon if enough of us joined forces we could write them a better booking system. I seem to remember thinking this last year, too (and this year's is worse).

We could make our millions, honestly (or at least have free gig tickets for the rest of our natural lives).

Who's in?

You only laugh twice

Films I would like to see:

Indiana Bond and the Octopussy of Doom, in which Harrison Ford and Daniel Craig get kitted out by Q with invisible clothes and have to mud-wrestle giant squids for the lost plot of the Incas. The lost plot is never found, but who cares?

What are days for?

Today I have: managed to book Glasto tickets for me and my mum and EIGHT other people despite EPIC FAIL on the part of seetickets (amazingly there are STILL TICKETS LEFT after several HOURS); tidied the house (a bit); sorted out some stuff to go to charity shops; filed all the boring admin BORING BORING BORING; helped Owen pair A MILLION AND ONE socks (he is very good at pairing my infinite supply of black socks, but we still ended up with about 7 really-definitely-odd ones); played piano (probably pissing off the new neighbours with incompetently-played Rachmaninov preludes); listened to Owen's piano practice (recognisable tunes with BOTH HANDS AT ONCE! did I learn that fast? I wish I could remember); identified all the tasks that we need to do for planning our w*dd*ng (and even made some Decisions, amazingly); made tasty roast chicken (I say 'made', but really, all you do is shove half a lemon up its arse and put it in the oven for an hour and a half, and the 'tasty' owed more to evolution than to the lemon) and tastier plum tart (which I actually did make); and replied to a couple of emails (though the backlog is still doomful).

Today I have not: done the work I was going to do this weekend; got any further with any of the on-the-go knitting projects; written up the EIGHT PAGES OF RANT triggered by the mini-conference I went to on Thursday; read any more of Ulysses.

Post script

Also, I found this scrawled on the corner of a page of a notebook, and had completely forgotten I'd written it, let alone what it was heading towards:
To say that the beloved is beyond the reach of poetry is the oldest trick in the book (or out of it); and to say that it is old and yet it is true in this case, that is the second oldest trick. And yet (at one more remove) this is his beauty and his strength, that he stands calmly to one side of the smooth superlatives of eulogy, he stands aloof from the dance, observing; he will not be verified, he smiles wryly and turns the page, and at that fingertip's touch the page catches fire.
Still true, I reckon.