Diesel and Autumn
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A cool breeze blows in through the crack where my door doesn’t quite shut properly, promising the Autumn ahead, but yet hanging on as long as it can to the sunshine. Now and again helicopter downdraft blows the door open and closed again, wafting in that thick, sweet, black smell of diesel.
I am in a shipping container miles from the sea, miles from just about anything of note bar my office and the occasional nuclear reactor. It may also be the world’s most well-powered container - I count seventy-nine separate plug sockets for various voltages.
In case it was not apparent from the last sentence I am very, very bored. For I am doing what one normally does in shipping containers: installing NetBeans.