So, on Friday I saw a Galaxy Tab S3 in CeX (a chain of tech second hand shops). It was over £100 less than the full price in Currys and was actually in A1 condition. Not the 4G variant, but I can always tether to satisfy that problem.
I decided to take the plunge as my Lenovo Yogabook really wasn’t working for me. Funky as it is to look at, the Yogabook running Android Nougat is actually pretty piss poor. No window mode support, just split screen; and to add insult to injury the OS is buggy and has been abandoned by Lenovo so will never be fixed or updated. The styles implementation is lacklustre to say the least and borders on gimmicky. I hardly ever found myself grabbing the stylus as it was so bad!
Enter the Tab S3 – a very capable tablet created by Samsung who, whilst I won’t say are perfect, are much better at keeping their flagship devices running for a somewhat longer time with updates.
The Yogabook was traded in and the money used to buy a keyboard case (from Argos as CeX didn’t have any in).
Yes. It’s so much better!
First came the rather lush red latex jeans; a purchase I never thought I’d make, ever, in my life!
Then a couple of weeks ago I bought a pair of putty coloured jeans… which look rather dashing with a green shirt and waistcoat.
Now… My latest reveal is…
It seems I’m getting more colorful as I crest the middle of the 4th decade of my life.
Next? Why… orange!
12 hour day… Ridiculous!
I think I need staff now.
So we played Blidfest yesterday. What a truly wonderful festival!
“The pub with a view” couldn’t be more apt to describe the Bird in Hand. The view from the audience could not have been nicer!
The festival ran a little late and our stage time was about an hour and a half later than projected, but it was all cool. The place was really nice to hang around and the weather was perfect.
Time for stage. Unfortunately at present there aren’t any onstage photos.
New green shirt. Green waistcoat. Putty coloured jeans. Looking rather dapper I think, but I think I’ll be terrified to sit down for fear of dirty arse syndrome.
Camp as hell but hilarious.
When you have to do this with the “stroon” to reach the bottom of your frostino, or leave a little behind.