Restoring lost iCal events and calendars

You’re probably wondering: “What is an article like this doing on a poetry and short-story blog?” Well, the answer is simple; I ran into a problem today with iCal, and failed to find the information I needed on the Internet. After reading a few forum posts, learning one or two tips on the way, and using some common sense, I got my iCal calendars completely restored, and everything back to normal.

So I decided to write a quick little post, hoping it might help someone who faces the same situation.

The problem

What happened was this: after turning on iCloud sync for my calendars, I suddenly lost all my iCal events. It seems that iCal, for some unknown reason, reverted to an ancient version of my calendars. All the daily events I had carefully entered (including various recurring alarms, to remind me when to pick up my three children from school - they have different school hours) had been lost. Why? I haven’t a clue; but I knew what I wanted done: restore my iCal to the state it was in a couple of days ago.

The difficulty

The solution seemed very simple. Since I’m running Mac OS X Lion, all I should need would be to fire up Time Machine and restore my calendars, right?

Wrong. When I opened Time Machine, I couldn’t find my calendars. After all, where are they stored? And how could I restore them?

I eventually discovered that what I needed was hidden from me by default (Mac OS X trying to be helpful!), but it wasn’t too hard to find.

The solution

So here’s an easy-to-follow step-by-step guide to getting iCal back to the state it was in at some time in the past (assuming, of course, that you have been using Time Machine!).

1. Quit iCal (just to be on the safe side).
2. Navigate to the “Library” folder inside your home folder. This folder is hidden by default, so if you can’t find it, select the “Go” menu in the Finder, then choose the “Go to Folder ...”. In the dialog box that will appear, type in: ~yourusername/Library (where “yourusername” should be substituted for your user name, of course).
3. Once in your “Library” folder, delete all the contents of the “Calendars” folder.
4. Still in your “Library” folder, scroll down until you find the folder called “Preferences”.
5. Inside this folder, delete all the files that begin with “com.apple.iCal” (there should be a few of these files).
6. Now we’re ready to restore! Making sure you’re still in the “Preferences” folder inside your “Library” folder, enter Time Machine. [You can enter Time Machine without leaving the “Preferences” folder using one of the following options: (1) through the Time Machine menu-bar icon, or (2) using Spotlight (hit “command” + “space-bar” to bring up Spotlight's search box, and search for Time Machine).]
7. Go back to the date you wish to grab your iCal data from (in my case, I went back a week in Time Machine).
8. Select all the files that begin with “com.apple.iCal” in the “Preferences” folder, and click “Restore”.
9. Enter Time Machine again, navigate up one level (to your “Library” folder).
10. Find the folder named “Calendars”, and click “Restore”.

And that’s it. Open up iCal, and everything should be back to normal.

If you need any extra help, let me know in the comments below. Cheers.

Ray's Grandma

One of my principles has always been: if you’re my friend’s friend, then you’re my friend. That is, until I met Ray’s Grandma!

Let me put things into context. Ray is one of those “closer than a brother” [1] friends — a quotation that good old Brother Jones managed to weave into most of his sermons, and that always brought a tear to his eye. Last year, on my 18th birthday, Ray gave me a card with these words: “To my only friend: Men in going through the world make many acquaintances, but out of these they have a few special objects of esteem, whom they call friends. If they think to have many friends, they are, probably, misusing the name” [2]. We were friends indeed — his American enthusiasm seemed to form a perfect contrasting balance with my calm British dignity. It seemed as if nothing could spoil this friendship.

Until last Sunday, when Ray called me to visit his old Grandma with him. Well, of course I accepted — if she’s Ray’s Grandma, she’s almost my Grandma. In blissful ignorance I rode into the jaws of death!

Mind you, she seemed genuinely happy to see me, and was very pleasant and courteous. She was small and frail, but had a surprisingly strong handshake. In almost every detail she seemed to be normal, bland, almost dull — except for her eyes! The old Irish poets wrote about “eyes like a wild Irish sea”, but they had never seen her eyes! She seemed to have a tsunami in those eyes, I’m telling you!

As I automatically started eating some peanuts from a tin on the table, she bent over and whispered (”hissed” would be a better word) to Ray: “How nice and English is your friend, Albert!” (whatever she meant by that!).

Ray gently corrected her: “I’m Ray, Granny.”

“That’s all right, dear.” She was patting his hand as if he was a little schoolboy who hadn’t done his homework properly. “I’m not like your parents — I’ve come to accept these things, you know. And anyway, I’ve know since you were a little boy!” And she looked over at me with those deep, deep eyes of hers, as if we were all partners in crime, all three of us.

“Known what, Granny?” Ray asked, a humorous look on his innocent American Fundamentalist face.

“Why, Albert, that you’re gay!”

The old witch was smiling gently, and only her eyes showed the sadistic pleasure she felt as Ray stammered and stuttered that “of course he was not a sinner in God’s sight”, and “how could you think that of me, Granny?” And when she turned to me again, because I’d chocked on the peanuts, it seemed as if her eyes were going to reach out and drown me in that terrible tsunami!

“Are you all right, son?”

I was still getting my breath back, but I managed to signal that I was “fine, thanks.” I felt like screaming “And please stop looking at me with those eyes!”

Still smiling gently, she continued to torture me: “Have some more peanuts, dear.”

But all I wanted was to leave as soon as possible.

“No thanks” (I managed to sound calm and polite) “I’m finished.”

“Oh, you went fishing! How nice. Only you and Albert, I suppose.” And the old hag actually winked at me.

“No, no, I’ve had plenty”, I replied, raising my voice a little.

“Oh, you caught twenty? Twenty fishes, I suppose.” She was doing it on purpose, pretending to be deaf just to embarrass me.

I shouted now: “I’M FULL!”

“Goodness me, all in the one pool? That’s splendid!”

By this time I was red in the face, my hands were trembling, and I think my whole body was shaking. I leaned as close to her ear as I dared, and yelled: “I don’t like your stupid peanuts!”

The old gorgon laughed gently and delivered the knock-out blow: “Neither do I, son. Actually, after I lost my teeth I just suck the chocolate off them and leave them in that tin.”

Ray can’t understand why I bolted then, vomiting as I went. Oh well, maybe he is gay.

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Quotes:
[1] Proverbs 18:24 (from the Bible).
[2] Spurgeon, Charles H. The Spurgeon Collection, Vol 1, page 53. Emerald House, 1998.

Hold me, dear ...

Hold my gaze and help me see
Those tender forms of mystery
That roam within your dark brown eyes,
Like small lost clouds upon the skies.

Hold my hand and help me tread
Those paths where stronger hands have bled,
Where blissful dreams have crying flown
From those who dared to walk alone.

Hold my heart and help me dream,
For though my life may tend to seem
As void of hopes as orphaned sighs,
Yet with your love I span the skies.