I seem to going through one of those spells when stuff over which I have no control starts behaving, if not plain wrongly, then at least alarmingly unexpectedly. This happens every year or two; I’m probably just unlucky in having bought the various chunks of stuff at just the right times for their built-in obsolescence curves to all peak simultaneously. At least that’s what it feels like.
My iPhone, for example, gave me the jitters this afternoon by getting confused about whether or not I’d installed the latest iOS update, and threatening dire consequences if I hadn’t. Then sending me another text telling me to ignore the previous one because everything was probably all right. (I paraphrase, but it was the implied ‘probably’ that threw me.)
Just as I was busy ignoring that, the phone told me I had to dial 121 for a new voicemail, so I did, and the lady told me I had no new voicemails. Eek!
And this computer has taken to showing me random green flashes, like a kind of off-kilter Northern Lights, when I open the lid. It’s going wrong, obviously, and will get replaced, but it’ll have to hang on till mid-August when Windows 10 comes on-shelf, because I’m beggared if I’m gonna body-surf through the horror rip-tide of W8 just to get to that remote, enticing shore. So it’s down to you, computer. I’m learning to remember to leave the lid open, but habits are not instantly breakable.
Oh, (and this is where I came in), last time I was down there, the TV in the caravan finally broke down. I mean, really down. It’s been glitching for a couple of years, and I’ve got through a truckload of remote batteries which have often done the trick, but not this time. Zilch. Nada. Niente … you know the rest.
So I’ve bought a new TV, and a Freesat box into the bargain, and I’ll be off down the M4 on Tuesday, to celebrate the evening in solitary style with a bottle of Cloudy Bay Pelorus, which I know is in the fridge there (assuming the latter hasn’t snuffed it too, aaargh!), before the man I’ve booked turns up Wednesday afternoon to install it all. His name is Steven, which is as good a piece of anagrammatic nominative determinism as they come, innit?
That’s as long as that amber light in the car doesn’t come on again.