Ho Ho Ho. Hello all. Pocket Weather for iPhone and iPad has been updated to version 3.4. You can get it from the app store right now.
What’s new? We bring you tide data for 2013, fixes for locations outside Australia and quite a few other tweaks based on feedback you’ve given to us. We also have a poem for you titled ‘Twas the Night before App Store Closure’ …enjoy your holidays!
Twas a few weeks before Christmas when all through the office
Not a developer was stirring, not even a novice.
The code was checked into source control with great care,
In hopes 2013 tides soon would be there.
The developers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of bug fixes danced in their heads.
And our Jelly in his water and I in my shorts,
Had just knocked off work for some xmas cavorts.
When out of nowhere there arose such a clatter,
I sprang out of my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the iPhone I flew like a flash,
Tapped open the Pocket Weather and gave it a bash.
The sun on the breast of the fake pixel rain,
Gave way to the data which invaded my brain.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an obvious bug which had slipped out my rear.
With a click of my mouse, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment they’d give me some shtick.
More rapid than eagles the bugs they came in,
So I whistled, and shouted, and made such a din.
“Now Xcode! now, iOS! now, BOM and Tide data!”
On, Keyboard! On, Mouse! on, on Objective-C and Core Data.
To the summit where all bugs go to die!
Now dash away, Dash away, fly fly fly!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the App Store submission page I flew,
With compiler full of code, and old Cupertino’s blessing too.
And then in a twinkling, I heard just nearby
The yelling of our designer, with a voice oh so high.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down past my chair he came with a bound.
He was dressed like a Hipster, from his head to his toe,
And his clothes all flowed around him unlike a typical joe.
A bundle of pens he had in his pockets,
And he looked all suave, like he was a maker of rockets.
His eyes how they glowed! his pimples how merry!
His photoshop smelled of roses, his pixels like a cherry!
He yelled for a while, and made wild hand gestures
Until I bent to his will to rid myself of his pester.
The cord of a mouse he held tight in his teeth,
And to my bewilderment it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a frown on his face, that made him look mad,
He shook when he laughed, it made me all sad.
When the work was all done, he sprang to his fixie,
And away he flew like a terrified pixie.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he rode out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
