Some heretofore unknown beastie is stealthily draining the battery on my new(-ish) 3230. It's crafty too, killing off a half-full battery while my phone is stowed in a gym locker, and sneaking through my loud and prone-to-sticking bedroom door to despatch a full charge while I'm asleep.
I suspect the new kid on the block, my copy of Tom Tom Navigator Mobile, but the evidence is completely circumstantial, so I'll have to just put a tail on it, and wait for it to slip up.

In a conversation with my boss' boss' boss, a manager who earns an astronomical sum of money and drives a brand new company Five Series, he referred to himself as 'working class', and not in the past tense. From the stories he tells about growing up in Belfast, he might have been what was euphemistically called working class in the Seventies, but these days, he's a sterling example of British social mobility.
When I pointed out that once your salary has a certain number of zeroes, you probably aren't considered working class anymore, he said that he bloody well was working class, he was at work for ten hours a day. What he meant by 'working class', was someone who not only had to work, as opposed to the footman-flogging, pheasant-shooting, Country House-living upper classes (What's up Tim?), but actually did, unlike the seething masses of Kappa-clad, benefits-taking, neon-underlit Corsa-driving steeks that have come to typify modern Britain.
It's a strange thing to hear someone who earns enough in a year to buy a large house in Canada calling himself working class, but it made me wonder how long it will be before society chooses to divide itself based on who contributes, or attempts to contribute, and those who simply absorb those contributions.
Growing up in Winnipeg, my impression of someone who was unemployed was somebody incapacitated by illness or addiction, or someone forced out of work by one of our regular recessions. Even people who didn't have a steady gig would pick up what work they could, or grow dope, or do whatever they could to support themselves.
It wasn't until I came to Britain that I really encountered people who felt that they were entitled to a living, simply for getting up in the morning and filtering oxygen out of the air. I'd known people who felt that they were entitled to the lifestyle that they grew up with, whether or not they earned enough to support it, but they generally learned to discipline themselves, usually with a little help from Visa's collections department.
In my mind, the social contract in a welfare state was simple; You did what you could to support yourself, and in return the state would do what it could to support you if you couldn't. That thinking was based on what I knew, even before I came overseas, was an idealised situation. Since I've been here, I've seen the kind of friction and resentment that grows if one party is seen to violate that contract too egregiously.
In the Eighties, the state abandoned its responsibilities to a huge swath of marginally employed citizens. Now, twenty years on, growing numbers of citizens who could work, to whom unskilled jobs or paid training schemes are available, are refusing to do so. Everywhere I look, I can see the contract breaking down, and the more I see, the more concrete my escape plan becomes, and the more intense my desire to prevent that breakdown in my own country grows.

After eight years of crippling back pain, and fifteen years of laughably poor vision, I worked up the organisational fortitude to start dealing with both in the course of one day.
I had my first physio appointment today, so I might be able to sit still for more than five minutes if this guy isn't a complete charlatan. My back has been fucked since first year, which must me hella masochistic, given how long ago that was.
More interestingly, I've made my first appointment to get evaluated for orthokeratological lenses. Having had braces for years, this doesn't freak me out too much, but even I've got to admit that it's pretty weird. It's going to be stupidly expensive, but I've got to do something about my eyes, as my vision is deteriorating on a week by week basis with the amount of time I spend staring at a screen. I'll likely post regular updates when and if (I may not be eligible) the process gets underway. My examination is on the 17th of November.