The title refers to The Grumpster, who treated us all to a Playstation 3 recently. I have kept away from this new gadget as much as possible, prefering to nerd away with my new, now-functioning mobile phone. However, there is no escaping the noise from this new addition, it's driving me mad!
The first is the noise of ripples of applause, the swipe of stick on ball and a whispering commentator. A golf game in other words. It's rather pleasant to observe but I can only imagine that it is boring to play. There is one facility on it however which caught my fancy, one which allows the player to create their own image for the on-screen player,a facility which forces the player to think in great depth about their appearance. On the screen is a series of breakdowns of a poor guy's face (don't know why I'm saying poor guy as it's Tiger Woods-read as rich man if you like!) into it's constituent parts, nose, brows, mouth chin etc. By clicking on any one of these, you are able to create on a 'dummy' face your likeness. For the first time, men (the prime audience for the game as only men have time to play for hours on end) are being forced to really think about their appearance, something which their female counterparts are miserably programmed to analyse about themselves on a daily basis. What fun! Throughout the process, The Grumpster was analysed, picked apart, stretched, fuzzed/defuzzzed and subjected to a series of tans and fades until we agreed the best likeness. It even had his hairstyle. It has been commented upon that the picture looks like a fugitive with mad staring eyes but when you eye The Grumpster up closely....
The second game on this machine is interesting. The Grumpster has been wandering around some hot jungle armed with various implements designed to end the lives of jungle baddies. These are convieniently dressed in grey from head to toe so that The Grumpster will have no trouble spotting them. They also shout at him when they have seen him, even when their jungle-unfriendly costume hasn't alerted him to their presence, allowing him to pick them off easily before stealing items of theirs which he deems useful and wandering off to find their endlessly appearing comrades. I know it's only a game but I get very cross with him when he walks over their dead bodies. He should have some respect. He has a buddy in this game, who follows him around like a child and talks to him in an urgent voice but seems to serve very little purpose. Neither of them appear to be killable which is nice as The Grumpster gets to play for as long as he fancies but it worries me that it is not ideal preparation for a situation in which The Grumpster gets lost in a similar environment in the real world with a subservient friend and an enemy who despite having been issued a stupid uniform (clearly British forces-why are they the enemy?) are likely to be better trained than him.
And then there's Guitar Hero. The Grumpster and his mini-me's are learning to share by taking turns to stand in full view of the lounge window with a small, Early Learning-sized guitar strapped to their chest, following a set routine to music. Sort of. Gone are chords and strings, replaced by coloured buttons on the fret and a big clicky-flap thing. The idea is you travel along a conveyor-belt of guitar frets on the TV screen pressing the coloured buttons on your 'guitar' as they flash past you whilst strumming this flappy job, in time to guitar classics such as Knights of Cydonia and School's out for Summer. Music it is not, however I have to say it is the game which gives me the greatest pleasure. Not that I play it, I played the guitar when I was a teenager and I can honestly say this game bears no relation to the real thing whatsoever but watching The Grumpster is an absolute delight! He attempts to maintain a nonplussed expression on his face but his determination to 'Rock' is there for all to see. Without even looking at the TV screen I am able to track the peaks and troughs of difficulty by the amount of tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth, I can sense a missed note with each frustrated grimace, but best of all is the 'I know it's sad but I can't help it' expression which is extracted with nothing more than a well-timed snigger from myself. On a romantic note though, last week, after 'unlocking' a new song by playing the 'career' mode (the worst career he has ever had as he gets paid in songs) he turned to the rest of us (I'm sure he winked) and said 'this one's for you Luce'. Swoon.
He's been on Amazon looking at other games as well. He wants to invite me into the lounge (I am now an outcast) to join the PS gang, and knowing my prowess at singing, has had a good look at Singstar for me. I might be tempted, there is no equipment required other than a microphone and it requires no coordination to play, you just have to sing in time and tune, a doddle for me, and it would be the only game I could beat him at every time. Strange he hasn't bought it yet! I must just add that I've never seen a cricket game for the PS-I'd be good at that too -well, the bits where thay break for tea anyway. My lounge pass will undoubtedly expire on a permanent basis the moment he comes through the door with a F1 game-it will happen soon I am sure and I can already hear his reasoning 'well I thought it might keep the boys happy...'
Well, this year I am doing my honours course for my OU degree, and have had a successful afternoon study-dodging, for that my followers three, I thank you!
Lucy. :-)
Sunday 31 January 2010
Wednesday 13 January 2010
An Explanation. (I think!)
Yesterday, the Grumpster had a clever idea. I was writing yesterday's entry for my blog when some standard family disruption reared it's head (tea/fight/phone call/injury) and I was called away to rescue/prevent/lecture about the situation. It was hours before I got to the computer to finish, and as I came into the dining room where the complicated laptop lives, The Grumpster was sat reading what I had written. Adept as I am at multi-tasking, I simultaneously moaned about my headache whilst harrying him from the desk so that I could finish up quickly and sit on my backside eating crap and watching the TV. At this point, The Grumpster made a suggestion which would save my head from worsening at the same time as securing an early pass to the lounge. (Plus I realised, the opportunity to get to sleep before midnight). Why not leave the blog at the point where I had stopped earlier? Just leave it! Add no more!
Unable to resist an opportunity to abandon anything that requires me to sit upright and think for myself, I positioned the cursor over the box which says 'Publish Post' and left-clicked. It was done, I thought it was a bit rubbish really but I reassured myself that it would have impact if nothing else. I had a fairly good evening, enjoying pink wafer biscuits, a handful of Revels and a cup of tea. I then remembered that my younger son was being evacuated from school the next morning, and spent my 'early night' making labels and gas mask box etc to make him look like a real WW2 child, but I didn't return to my blog and it spent the night incomplete and exposed.
Well, this evening I was summoned through to the dining room by the Grumpster. Now this regularly happens in our house. I will be elbow-deep in washing up water or trapped behind a mound of ironing when I hear my name being called. I will try to avoid rushing too fast, to avoid creating an impression of being eager, and wait until at least the second summons before muttering a stream of whinges and obscenities to myself (purely for my own enjoyment) then shuffle off through the house to see why I am wanted. Nine times out of the proverbial ten, when I arrive at the required destination, I will be greeted by a child who is pinned to the ground by The Grumpster, yelling 'Don't tickle me', to which I am then requested to tickle said child, to the amusement of the ones-who-got-away, before returning to the drudgery from which I had been torn. Most of the time on the other occasions the summons is issued from the lounge, where, upon my arrival I will be asked to observe on the television one of the many places that The Grumpster has visited with his work. I will be expected to look impressed, give a verbal acknowlegement to clarify that I wish I could go somewhere as wonderful as that, and agree that one day, when we are in a position to leave our own house without arranging a babysitter/packing five peoples' bags/telling unwilling party-members that they have to come with us because we will go to prison if we leave them at home on their own, he and I will go there together. However, nothing could have prepared me for what I was being summoned for this evening. The Grumpster was sitting at the computer with my blog page open, and there, at the bottom of the page, was a picture of a tiny pencil telling me that I had 3 comments for yesterday's entry!!!
So people are, somehow, reading this bizarre collection of words and even though the comments pertained to the fact that the entry, typically, made no sense at all, (even less given that it was incomplete) I was delighted to see that they wanted to know what the whole thing meant. The Grumpster was even more delighted that he had been mentioned! Winners all round!
So anyway, it now means that I need to inject a little sense into my unfinished post. From memory ( I am too scared to leave this draft and re-read yesterday's post in case this alphabetti-spaghetti of a post is never found again) I had explained that my January blues had been delayed for two reasons, the first being the snow, the second being The Grumpster. I first need to reassure any worried readers that the Christmas decorations are safely in the attic-room with the damp and the things-we-keep-but-never-need, and I had no need to nag for it to be done! ( I have to add that we can't keep things in our loft but instead have a first-floor attic room over the garage room in which we have to store everything. This means that it would be unreasonable to nag The G. to do it as I could just as easily do it myself due to there being no requirement to pull oneself from a rickety six-foot ladder, up a further five-feet through nothing to a rotten loft hatch as we did in our last home.)
Anyway, I digress. All you want to know (and all I came on here to explain today-still nursing the headache) is why The Grumpster, my husband, is the second reason for me only noticing that we were in the miserable grips of January yesterday. It actually isn't really interesting or even relevant but I will explain (this blog could hardly be described using those adjectives anyway) for anyone with an enquiring mind. The Grumpster has a job which means he has to go away from home sometimes, and when he does, it is for huge amounts of time. In the last two years he has been away on and off for 19 months, and this means he has accrued a lot of holiday. And he needs to take it. So of all the lovely months of the year, he was allowed to take January off. You know-the month when you have the least money to spend, the least inclination to spend it and the worst weather to not spend it in. So we have been mooching about together for three weeks now, like some kind of extended Christmas without the expectation, popping out to school and back but otherwise pootling about without purpose. And then yesterday, he had to go into work to sort out some complicated work-like issue, and I was left alone with our three-year-old for the first time since mid-December and I didn't know what to do! And January smacked me in the face with full-force. The snow was almost gone, it was drizzling, everyone was back to their normal selves. And it all happened on the same day. Rubbish. Roll on summer!
So now the 'mystery ' is revealed and I should imagine anyone who has spent an unhappy twenty minutes reading through this will be thinking 'is that it?!' and sadly, that is. And for anyone wondering whether we did get more snow, the answer is no. The miseries won. The snow which was ours by rights, forecast for us to enjoy, hung fire until it got further East before treating other people to a fun day. Glory be! January really is truly miserable!
My followers three, and anybody else who finds themselves in the awful position of reading this, Take Care, and I will spout a load more rubbish soon. Keep commenting!
Lucy.
Unable to resist an opportunity to abandon anything that requires me to sit upright and think for myself, I positioned the cursor over the box which says 'Publish Post' and left-clicked. It was done, I thought it was a bit rubbish really but I reassured myself that it would have impact if nothing else. I had a fairly good evening, enjoying pink wafer biscuits, a handful of Revels and a cup of tea. I then remembered that my younger son was being evacuated from school the next morning, and spent my 'early night' making labels and gas mask box etc to make him look like a real WW2 child, but I didn't return to my blog and it spent the night incomplete and exposed.
Well, this evening I was summoned through to the dining room by the Grumpster. Now this regularly happens in our house. I will be elbow-deep in washing up water or trapped behind a mound of ironing when I hear my name being called. I will try to avoid rushing too fast, to avoid creating an impression of being eager, and wait until at least the second summons before muttering a stream of whinges and obscenities to myself (purely for my own enjoyment) then shuffle off through the house to see why I am wanted. Nine times out of the proverbial ten, when I arrive at the required destination, I will be greeted by a child who is pinned to the ground by The Grumpster, yelling 'Don't tickle me', to which I am then requested to tickle said child, to the amusement of the ones-who-got-away, before returning to the drudgery from which I had been torn. Most of the time on the other occasions the summons is issued from the lounge, where, upon my arrival I will be asked to observe on the television one of the many places that The Grumpster has visited with his work. I will be expected to look impressed, give a verbal acknowlegement to clarify that I wish I could go somewhere as wonderful as that, and agree that one day, when we are in a position to leave our own house without arranging a babysitter/packing five peoples' bags/telling unwilling party-members that they have to come with us because we will go to prison if we leave them at home on their own, he and I will go there together. However, nothing could have prepared me for what I was being summoned for this evening. The Grumpster was sitting at the computer with my blog page open, and there, at the bottom of the page, was a picture of a tiny pencil telling me that I had 3 comments for yesterday's entry!!!
So people are, somehow, reading this bizarre collection of words and even though the comments pertained to the fact that the entry, typically, made no sense at all, (even less given that it was incomplete) I was delighted to see that they wanted to know what the whole thing meant. The Grumpster was even more delighted that he had been mentioned! Winners all round!
So anyway, it now means that I need to inject a little sense into my unfinished post. From memory ( I am too scared to leave this draft and re-read yesterday's post in case this alphabetti-spaghetti of a post is never found again) I had explained that my January blues had been delayed for two reasons, the first being the snow, the second being The Grumpster. I first need to reassure any worried readers that the Christmas decorations are safely in the attic-room with the damp and the things-we-keep-but-never-need, and I had no need to nag for it to be done! ( I have to add that we can't keep things in our loft but instead have a first-floor attic room over the garage room in which we have to store everything. This means that it would be unreasonable to nag The G. to do it as I could just as easily do it myself due to there being no requirement to pull oneself from a rickety six-foot ladder, up a further five-feet through nothing to a rotten loft hatch as we did in our last home.)
Anyway, I digress. All you want to know (and all I came on here to explain today-still nursing the headache) is why The Grumpster, my husband, is the second reason for me only noticing that we were in the miserable grips of January yesterday. It actually isn't really interesting or even relevant but I will explain (this blog could hardly be described using those adjectives anyway) for anyone with an enquiring mind. The Grumpster has a job which means he has to go away from home sometimes, and when he does, it is for huge amounts of time. In the last two years he has been away on and off for 19 months, and this means he has accrued a lot of holiday. And he needs to take it. So of all the lovely months of the year, he was allowed to take January off. You know-the month when you have the least money to spend, the least inclination to spend it and the worst weather to not spend it in. So we have been mooching about together for three weeks now, like some kind of extended Christmas without the expectation, popping out to school and back but otherwise pootling about without purpose. And then yesterday, he had to go into work to sort out some complicated work-like issue, and I was left alone with our three-year-old for the first time since mid-December and I didn't know what to do! And January smacked me in the face with full-force. The snow was almost gone, it was drizzling, everyone was back to their normal selves. And it all happened on the same day. Rubbish. Roll on summer!
So now the 'mystery ' is revealed and I should imagine anyone who has spent an unhappy twenty minutes reading through this will be thinking 'is that it?!' and sadly, that is. And for anyone wondering whether we did get more snow, the answer is no. The miseries won. The snow which was ours by rights, forecast for us to enjoy, hung fire until it got further East before treating other people to a fun day. Glory be! January really is truly miserable!
My followers three, and anybody else who finds themselves in the awful position of reading this, Take Care, and I will spout a load more rubbish soon. Keep commenting!
Lucy.
Tuesday 12 January 2010
January.
Anyway, my second reason for the late onset of my January blues. The Grumpster.
Sunday 10 January 2010
Still Geeking....
So here I am again, still geeking (as the Grumpster has described my technological activities) and testing a new editor feature on my blog. And there is no discernable difference. -Hang on, change that, there is! I can now change how the text looks! How Exciting! I don't know what most of the icons at the top of this box mean, other than B and I (can you tell?!) but there is always an option for the Grumpster to experiment on my behalf. He knows so much more about computers than I do. Today, I decided to put some photos that I'd taken on my new phone onto the computer. Under his direct supervision. All went well until I plucked the lead that connected my phone to my computer from it's umbilical housing. 'NO' yelled the G. 'You have to tell the computer that you are disconnecting it!!!' As if it's a dire emergency, he has already made his way across the house to the poor, shocked PC. I am sitting, frozen with fear, as if the machine might in some way retaliate against my foolishness. Well, there was nothing that could be done. The computer survived (I hope) and so has my phone, but I have been shown what to do, and will never be so foolish again. Phew!
Everyone has been so excited by the snow this week, it's just incredible. We actually get snow here most winters but it generally never lays and when it does, by the time we have slipped out into the garage to get the sledge the drip-drip signal that it is going to disappear faster than it arrived is already well under way. This year however, we have had super-snow! It's been here for days, schools have closed (although ours was the only one in Somerset that opened on Thursday-we are so hard here!) and the shops look like they have been looted. So I am sad to report that the BBC are forecasting a thaw over the next couple of days. As I type, frantic shouts and drawer-opening sounds are happening in the boys' room above me. That is the noise of boys getting dressed. We are off sledging before it's all gone. I will let you know how it has gone (hopefully from home and not an X-ray dept.) when I next geek.
Be careful and stay upright followers. Lucy.
Everyone has been so excited by the snow this week, it's just incredible. We actually get snow here most winters but it generally never lays and when it does, by the time we have slipped out into the garage to get the sledge the drip-drip signal that it is going to disappear faster than it arrived is already well under way. This year however, we have had super-snow! It's been here for days, schools have closed (although ours was the only one in Somerset that opened on Thursday-we are so hard here!) and the shops look like they have been looted. So I am sad to report that the BBC are forecasting a thaw over the next couple of days. As I type, frantic shouts and drawer-opening sounds are happening in the boys' room above me. That is the noise of boys getting dressed. We are off sledging before it's all gone. I will let you know how it has gone (hopefully from home and not an X-ray dept.) when I next geek.
Be careful and stay upright followers. Lucy.
Saturday 9 January 2010
No my laptop is not snowed in!
Just a quick one. (Really.) I have neglected you this week but I am still here. However I have had new technology to tend at the moment, snow to contend with and children back at school/not back at school/back at school. My new phone is wonderful! And I have been able to work it which is a bonus. The Grumpster says he doesn't like touch phones but I catch him marvelling at it when he doesn't know I'm looking! And the photos-well, they look superb, unless they contain me although they are the best pics of me ever. And that's saying something!
Anyway, I have to learn to be a little more brief so I shall leave you to the snow and ice, and will be back ASAP.
Speak soon followers three.
Anyway, I have to learn to be a little more brief so I shall leave you to the snow and ice, and will be back ASAP.
Speak soon followers three.
Monday 4 January 2010
Did you hear about the Morgans?
Good evening followers. I went to the cinema last night with my secret follower! Now it has taken me a while to work out what the film was called. Until I checked online just now, I thought it was called 'Have you seen the Fosters?'. My secret follower told me it was called 'Meet the Fosters'. Both, as you can see from the title bar for this blog (which displays the correct name), totally incorrect. Anyway, despite my confusion, my secret follower had cleverly pre-ordered the tickets so fortunately we were able to get into the film without making hideous prats of ourselves in front of the ticket office staff. (For the chance to see a short but revealing description of how readily I can make myself look utterly stupid, read my previous blog.)
Anyway, it is my opinion that the title of the film is going to muddle lots of people. I know that I can get things very wrong, very easily, but my secret follower is normal and does not. She is a big fan of one of the main characters in the film and it was her idea to go and see this film in the first place-and she must have read the title when ordering the tickets online. Yet she still couldn't get the title right, and even after seeing the bloody film we weren't sure what it was called! It's because the title is too wordy-a little like me I think.
Now this blog isn't a dedicated film review site (clearly) so I won't go on too much. Needless to say I know anything about films-I probably only watch 10 films a year so I really don't have much of a clue, but it's a perfectly good film and worth a watch. I certainly would rather watch that than Avatar, which, having seen the trailer looked to be visually similar to the Cbeebies programme, Waybaloo, but (judging from what I've heard) with a less impressive script and an inferior plot.
Now to matters of telecommunication, yes my new mobile phone. 'Wow, you have it?' I hear you all gasp 'What's it like?'
No I don't have it. And it's not looking good for the rest of the week either. Now, I can't remember what I had said about my expectations for it's delivery, but having bought it on a next-day delivery late on a Saturday night, I was fully expecting the order to be processed on Monday, and to take delivery on Tuesday. I smelled a rat at 10.30 this morning, when I had heard nothing (how impatient of me) and phoned the company. My fears were confirmed when the nice young lady was unable to find my order details. There was nothing registered against my order number!!!!! Fighting back the tears, I 'yessed' and 'no-ed' to her while she explained to me that she would e-mail another department to get them to find it. ('Look for something blue!') At some point during the call, something was said which led me to believe that I would hear within a couple of hours, so I said goodbye to the operative, and tried to relax in front of my home phone, my mobile phone and my e-mail on my laptop, so that any attempt at communication would not be missed by myself.
By three o' clock, with a very numb-bum and pins and needles in my left foot, I decided that I ought to ring again in case they had mislaid my phone numbers and e-mail address, as they had done with my order. This operative was a little less friendly than the first and seemed not to sympathise with my predicament. I had a cunning proposal in mind which I felt would save an awful lot of hassle on their part, and time on mine. I recommended that the first order (that didn't seem to exist anyway) was cancelled, and I would then simply place a totally new one, thus guaranteeing the delivery of the phone for tomorrow. But no, apparently, that was not possible. At least not yet. I was told to give it a few days.....yes!- DAYS!!! If I had not heard in a few days, then perhaps I could then cancel the order and re-purchase!
So I don't have my phone yet. I even pointed out that the particular model was becoming a little hard to get hold of and that I was worried that by the time they found my order (where are they planning to look?) the phone would then be sold out. She didn't reassure me at all and I got the impression that all of this was just a chance I would have to take. Next day delivery my arse. I have e-mailed the company to re-suggest my cancellation plot but am scared to ring again in case they put a note on my file saying 'screw up this order in every way possible'. But there is no order....so maybe they already have......
Anyway, it is my opinion that the title of the film is going to muddle lots of people. I know that I can get things very wrong, very easily, but my secret follower is normal and does not. She is a big fan of one of the main characters in the film and it was her idea to go and see this film in the first place-and she must have read the title when ordering the tickets online. Yet she still couldn't get the title right, and even after seeing the bloody film we weren't sure what it was called! It's because the title is too wordy-a little like me I think.
Now this blog isn't a dedicated film review site (clearly) so I won't go on too much. Needless to say I know anything about films-I probably only watch 10 films a year so I really don't have much of a clue, but it's a perfectly good film and worth a watch. I certainly would rather watch that than Avatar, which, having seen the trailer looked to be visually similar to the Cbeebies programme, Waybaloo, but (judging from what I've heard) with a less impressive script and an inferior plot.
Now to matters of telecommunication, yes my new mobile phone. 'Wow, you have it?' I hear you all gasp 'What's it like?'
No I don't have it. And it's not looking good for the rest of the week either. Now, I can't remember what I had said about my expectations for it's delivery, but having bought it on a next-day delivery late on a Saturday night, I was fully expecting the order to be processed on Monday, and to take delivery on Tuesday. I smelled a rat at 10.30 this morning, when I had heard nothing (how impatient of me) and phoned the company. My fears were confirmed when the nice young lady was unable to find my order details. There was nothing registered against my order number!!!!! Fighting back the tears, I 'yessed' and 'no-ed' to her while she explained to me that she would e-mail another department to get them to find it. ('Look for something blue!') At some point during the call, something was said which led me to believe that I would hear within a couple of hours, so I said goodbye to the operative, and tried to relax in front of my home phone, my mobile phone and my e-mail on my laptop, so that any attempt at communication would not be missed by myself.
By three o' clock, with a very numb-bum and pins and needles in my left foot, I decided that I ought to ring again in case they had mislaid my phone numbers and e-mail address, as they had done with my order. This operative was a little less friendly than the first and seemed not to sympathise with my predicament. I had a cunning proposal in mind which I felt would save an awful lot of hassle on their part, and time on mine. I recommended that the first order (that didn't seem to exist anyway) was cancelled, and I would then simply place a totally new one, thus guaranteeing the delivery of the phone for tomorrow. But no, apparently, that was not possible. At least not yet. I was told to give it a few days.....yes!- DAYS!!! If I had not heard in a few days, then perhaps I could then cancel the order and re-purchase!
So I don't have my phone yet. I even pointed out that the particular model was becoming a little hard to get hold of and that I was worried that by the time they found my order (where are they planning to look?) the phone would then be sold out. She didn't reassure me at all and I got the impression that all of this was just a chance I would have to take. Next day delivery my arse. I have e-mailed the company to re-suggest my cancellation plot but am scared to ring again in case they put a note on my file saying 'screw up this order in every way possible'. But there is no order....so maybe they already have......
Saturday 2 January 2010
Me and my followers three!
I couldn't let today pass without a quick (or maybe not) comment. It has been eventful and tremendously exciting. First, if you look at the bottom of the right-hand gubbins of this page you will see just one reason for my joy-two new followers! I am just delighted, my drivel is now spreading to four outside parties and I am truly humbled. Yes, the new folks are my Mum and Brother and yes, they are following out of a sense of supportive duty and yes, if they have any sense (which despite being related to me they do) they will never read a single word that I spout but (gasps for breath due to lack of punctuation) they have placed their thumbnails upon this blog and I am genuinely thrilled! Hello to you all!
So why else would I be so excited? Well, I am about to be the proud owner of a new mobile phone (subject to credit checks) and it's a really good one! I have made no secret to date of my multimedia ineptitude, in fact my whole online persona could be considered to have been built upon this fact (if indeed I have an online persona) and mobile phones are no exception to this. I was a late bloomer in the world of texting despite having plenty to say, and my first couple of mobile phones were actually slightly less sophisticated than those found in toy shops, sold to beleagured parents hoping to fool their small children into believing that the shiny lump of plastic is in fact a real mobile phone. (I have, for your information, never yet met a child who has been fooled into going along with this. They may be tiny, but today's cyber-generation can smell technology at 1000 paces)
The chunky 'candy-bar' phones that I have previously owned have been specifically chosen for their duh-duh simplicity. I once even returned to a phone shop at the point of tears begging to change a new phone as I was so scared of it. Maybe it's an attack of over-confidence (after all I have a blog now, I am the Queen of a media kingdom ) but this time I have gone straight in at the top (or so I read), have flown above the i-phone cloud to the summit of the highest mountain, complete with snowy peak and greek hero and have settled (according to reviews) for possibly the best phone on the market!!! The HTC HD2. Today I struggled, during conversations with bored, hungover phone-shop assistants, to utter the name of this masterpiece of technology with the proficience that is probably required to own one. Conversations went roughly as follows:
Bored shop assistant.(Sounding worse for wear):'Hi, d'you need some help there.' ***no question mark as this is not posed as a question***
Dithery customer.(Sounding (yet not) inebriated): Do you sell the hctd2d...'(dies away pathetically)
Bored shop assistant.(With raised eyebrow):'HTC HD2?'
Dithery customer.(Wondering whether to go with the inebriated version of self despite having three children in one's charge as it provides cover for one's stupidity):'Em, yes I think that may be the one...'
Bored shop assistant.(Realising customer is not drunk, just stupid.):'What do you want to know about it'
***as per first entry***
Dithery customer.(In small,pathetic voice):'Em, well I don't really know really, just sort of how much it is and if it goes on the internet and em... does it do Twitter?'
Bored shop assistant.(Preferring the hangover symptoms to this imbecile):'It's a Windows internet phone so... yes.'
Dithery customer.(Realising one is looking like a twot and seeking fast escape):'Wonderful, em, I think you've answered all my questions anyway, thankyou so much for your help...' Slithers pathetically towards the exit, hoping the three children will follow. Does not want to look back if it can be helped.
I ordered the phone online. It seemed easier than buying it face-to-face and the website will never know what a numpty I am. So it will arrive, I would imagine, on Monday and I can't wait. It has occurred to me that I will need a lot of help and support to set the thing up, but the Grumpster (who was away at a football match during all this) will be here and he is (as noted previously) not afraid of pressing buttons. I will keep you updated on my progress with my phone. I can't wait!
I forgot to explain though! The reason I have taken the unlikely step of going from the least sophisticated mobile to the most without drawing breath is that this new phone is a 'touch-screen' phone. There is a situation which occurs with a standard press-button phone which could be best described as third-party intervention. You see what you want on the screen, but in order to enable it to happen,you must remotely operate the highlighting 'mechanism', by use of a button, which, granted, is immediately proximate to the screen but still has margin for error. You press the down/up/left/right button to cursor through the menu then attempt to capture the required icon with a quick press of a central buttton, but unbeknownst to you, a delay has been incurred somewhere during the process. It appears to be hovering over the icon but the phone-brain and your brain are not synchronised. As you press 'select', the phone-brain is still working it's way through the manic series of instructions which you have hurriedly issued and it continues beyond the point at which you were hoping to stop. Before your eyes, a screen appears, generally informing you that a something disastrous is going to happen if you press the wrong button, but giving you no clue as to which button gives you a safe option. Terrifying for those like myself! A touch-phone removes this hideous scenario by allowing you to directly select, with your own well-loved fingers, the icon that you require. Of course there is always the chance that a finger may accidentally stray at the moment of 'touch', but at least we can thus, only blame ourselves.
I realise that I have gone on, but there is just one more exciting thing that happened today! I got something for free! My beloved Audi A4 informed me when returning from the in-laws, that it was in need of more oil. I remembered vaguely, something about a special oil which when used, allowed a two-year interval between services, instead of one. The second non-special oil is poured into the engine, there is no going back! Responsibly I informed the Grumpster that I needed to visit the dealer for oil, and he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Well that's probably £40 down the drain', something which I myself believed possible. Well I can joyously report that I was given the oil for free! How exciting! And they didn't even charge me for putting the car up on the engine inspection ramp to retrieve the lid to the oil bottle which I managed to nudge off the top of the engine and into the hot, moving parts. I am pushing my luck, with the repair booking I have made to find out why water does not ensue when pushing the rear-wash stick to the clean-rear-windscreen position. The guarantee on the car runs out in February and I am going to exploit the free repair bonus which I currently enjoy for all it's worth, particularly as the car is valeted at no cost as part of the service. They will soon have me for every penny they can, of that I am sure.
Goodnight friends, more soon. Bet you can't wait.... x
So why else would I be so excited? Well, I am about to be the proud owner of a new mobile phone (subject to credit checks) and it's a really good one! I have made no secret to date of my multimedia ineptitude, in fact my whole online persona could be considered to have been built upon this fact (if indeed I have an online persona) and mobile phones are no exception to this. I was a late bloomer in the world of texting despite having plenty to say, and my first couple of mobile phones were actually slightly less sophisticated than those found in toy shops, sold to beleagured parents hoping to fool their small children into believing that the shiny lump of plastic is in fact a real mobile phone. (I have, for your information, never yet met a child who has been fooled into going along with this. They may be tiny, but today's cyber-generation can smell technology at 1000 paces)
The chunky 'candy-bar' phones that I have previously owned have been specifically chosen for their duh-duh simplicity. I once even returned to a phone shop at the point of tears begging to change a new phone as I was so scared of it. Maybe it's an attack of over-confidence (after all I have a blog now, I am the Queen of a media kingdom ) but this time I have gone straight in at the top (or so I read), have flown above the i-phone cloud to the summit of the highest mountain, complete with snowy peak and greek hero and have settled (according to reviews) for possibly the best phone on the market!!! The HTC HD2. Today I struggled, during conversations with bored, hungover phone-shop assistants, to utter the name of this masterpiece of technology with the proficience that is probably required to own one. Conversations went roughly as follows:
Bored shop assistant.(Sounding worse for wear):'Hi, d'you need some help there.' ***no question mark as this is not posed as a question***
Dithery customer.(Sounding (yet not) inebriated): Do you sell the hctd2d...'(dies away pathetically)
Bored shop assistant.(With raised eyebrow):'HTC HD2?'
Dithery customer.(Wondering whether to go with the inebriated version of self despite having three children in one's charge as it provides cover for one's stupidity):'Em, yes I think that may be the one...'
Bored shop assistant.(Realising customer is not drunk, just stupid.):'What do you want to know about it'
***as per first entry***
Dithery customer.(In small,pathetic voice):'Em, well I don't really know really, just sort of how much it is and if it goes on the internet and em... does it do Twitter?'
Bored shop assistant.(Preferring the hangover symptoms to this imbecile):'It's a Windows internet phone so... yes.'
Dithery customer.(Realising one is looking like a twot and seeking fast escape):'Wonderful, em, I think you've answered all my questions anyway, thankyou so much for your help...' Slithers pathetically towards the exit, hoping the three children will follow. Does not want to look back if it can be helped.
I ordered the phone online. It seemed easier than buying it face-to-face and the website will never know what a numpty I am. So it will arrive, I would imagine, on Monday and I can't wait. It has occurred to me that I will need a lot of help and support to set the thing up, but the Grumpster (who was away at a football match during all this) will be here and he is (as noted previously) not afraid of pressing buttons. I will keep you updated on my progress with my phone. I can't wait!
I forgot to explain though! The reason I have taken the unlikely step of going from the least sophisticated mobile to the most without drawing breath is that this new phone is a 'touch-screen' phone. There is a situation which occurs with a standard press-button phone which could be best described as third-party intervention. You see what you want on the screen, but in order to enable it to happen,you must remotely operate the highlighting 'mechanism', by use of a button, which, granted, is immediately proximate to the screen but still has margin for error. You press the down/up/left/right button to cursor through the menu then attempt to capture the required icon with a quick press of a central buttton, but unbeknownst to you, a delay has been incurred somewhere during the process. It appears to be hovering over the icon but the phone-brain and your brain are not synchronised. As you press 'select', the phone-brain is still working it's way through the manic series of instructions which you have hurriedly issued and it continues beyond the point at which you were hoping to stop. Before your eyes, a screen appears, generally informing you that a something disastrous is going to happen if you press the wrong button, but giving you no clue as to which button gives you a safe option. Terrifying for those like myself! A touch-phone removes this hideous scenario by allowing you to directly select, with your own well-loved fingers, the icon that you require. Of course there is always the chance that a finger may accidentally stray at the moment of 'touch', but at least we can thus, only blame ourselves.
I realise that I have gone on, but there is just one more exciting thing that happened today! I got something for free! My beloved Audi A4 informed me when returning from the in-laws, that it was in need of more oil. I remembered vaguely, something about a special oil which when used, allowed a two-year interval between services, instead of one. The second non-special oil is poured into the engine, there is no going back! Responsibly I informed the Grumpster that I needed to visit the dealer for oil, and he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Well that's probably £40 down the drain', something which I myself believed possible. Well I can joyously report that I was given the oil for free! How exciting! And they didn't even charge me for putting the car up on the engine inspection ramp to retrieve the lid to the oil bottle which I managed to nudge off the top of the engine and into the hot, moving parts. I am pushing my luck, with the repair booking I have made to find out why water does not ensue when pushing the rear-wash stick to the clean-rear-windscreen position. The guarantee on the car runs out in February and I am going to exploit the free repair bonus which I currently enjoy for all it's worth, particularly as the car is valeted at no cost as part of the service. They will soon have me for every penny they can, of that I am sure.
Goodnight friends, more soon. Bet you can't wait.... x
Friday 1 January 2010
One Day In!
This is just a quick post today.(During my pre-publication preview, I can assure you that it is not) I have eaten a dinner fit for a king (Henry 8th-yes, that much)and can barely move-even my hands are struggling to lift my roast-beef-full fingers to type this but I have a duty to fulfil. A new follower! 'Where?!' I hear you say. Well this one is a rather secretive follower, she is an 'anonymous' follower, one who wants to remain cloaked in secrecy as she forces herself to read the utter diatrabe which I spoon out in plentiful amounts. I know she's following this though, as I forced her to read it and begged excitedly down the groaning phone wire for her to keep track of my ramblings on here. So a big welcome to my silent friend. Happy New Year to both my followers!
Last night went pretty much as I feared although there were some deviations from my predictions. I am pleased to say that I cooked dinner at five o'clock (under duress from my three-year old, there is only so much you can take before the pulling, climbing and moaning that accompanies a young child's hunger gets too much. Some people snap, my daughter is fortunate, I just whack the oven on.) so plenty was eaten. The knock-on effect was simply that the manic post-dinner lunacy that seems to follow a late meal was thus avoided and fortunately so was any injury. I was in fact able to get my daughter up to bed at her pre-Christmas bedtime, and made it downstairs in time to play a fraught game of 'Go-gos The Board Game' with my boys. When we all began exchanging unpleasantries with the person on our left, the end of the game was signalled and I sent the boys to bed. I then watched this blog site for some considerable length of time willing someone to mistakenly wander in and become brainwashed enough to decide to become a follower, but it soon became clear that I had underestimated the world-wide public, nobody was interested. On entering the lounge I discovered that the boys had got confused en-route to their bedroom and were actually playing with the irritating lego set on the floor again. In a bluster of mild protest, the boys remembered how to get to the bathroom to clean their teeth and with some assistance made it into their bedroom.
Back to the computer again, I returned to the blog site to see how many new followers I had. None. Then by chance, I moved the cursor over some words which read 'Next Blog' and simultaneously left clicked! Amazingly, an American-looking family appeared before me, looking healthy and happy, complete with an Annual summary of their 2009. It instantly looked as if their year had gone better than mine so I clicked the magic words again and found myself on a Gospel blog. Then another, and another. And so it went on. I began to worry that somewhere on the initial set-up of my blog I had clicked something that suggested that the best place for my blog to be listed was under the heading 'Religion'. I have no objection to religion or religious blogs but felt a 'religion' heading would be somewhat inappropriate for my strange utterances and would earn me few followers, I am sure you will agree.
I retired to Twitter to review the situation and like a message from Him above, someone who I don't know but seem to be following had put a link to a blog that their niece was writing. Intrigued, I decided to look, as the child is only 10, the same age as my own son. I was very impressed by this child's book reviews, particularly as one of my intentions with this blog was to share books which I love. She was on this same blog site and I fiendishly clicked on the 'next blog' option on her site, and went straight to a religious blog, or three, before turning pages and pages of photography blogs. Satisfied that this child's blog was also incorrectly placed (but bearing in mind I am 36 and this child is 10) I turned to facebook,and clicked on the link which returned me to my own blog. 'Next blog' this time took me through a random and varied selection of sites (including one which I loved that is apparently written by a dog!)
So I have read some other blogs now. I have realised that I will need to get a bit more sophisticated and add colour and interest to my site. Even Bishops and Gospel leaders have the know-how to import photos and clip-art to their blogs, I am way behind in these stakes, but intend to right this wrong as soon as possible. I will get the Grumpster on the case, he's not afraid to click buttons on the computer.
Anyway, back to last night. When my eyes began rolling down my cheeks in protest to the endless staring at the computer screen which I had inflicted upon them, I walked away from my laptop (after first reading the many generic 'Happy New Years' sent via facebook and twitter), and ventured into the lounge to for a change of screen. Graham Norton preceded Jools, and with the wonderful Joan Rivers as one of his guests, I sat with a cup of tea and began to fall asleep. At 11.45, I decided I was not in the mood to prevent the end of the world, and headed up to bed. At midnight, someone let off a load of fireworks outside which sounded laboured and tired, a little like myself. After 30 seconds of a rhythmic !BANG! ''''FIZZ'''', all fell slient again. We had survived another New Year's Eve!
And where was my Husband, The Grumpster, throughout my whole, eventful cybernight?
Yes, absolutely!
Take care my following duo. Lucy. x
Last night went pretty much as I feared although there were some deviations from my predictions. I am pleased to say that I cooked dinner at five o'clock (under duress from my three-year old, there is only so much you can take before the pulling, climbing and moaning that accompanies a young child's hunger gets too much. Some people snap, my daughter is fortunate, I just whack the oven on.) so plenty was eaten. The knock-on effect was simply that the manic post-dinner lunacy that seems to follow a late meal was thus avoided and fortunately so was any injury. I was in fact able to get my daughter up to bed at her pre-Christmas bedtime, and made it downstairs in time to play a fraught game of 'Go-gos The Board Game' with my boys. When we all began exchanging unpleasantries with the person on our left, the end of the game was signalled and I sent the boys to bed. I then watched this blog site for some considerable length of time willing someone to mistakenly wander in and become brainwashed enough to decide to become a follower, but it soon became clear that I had underestimated the world-wide public, nobody was interested. On entering the lounge I discovered that the boys had got confused en-route to their bedroom and were actually playing with the irritating lego set on the floor again. In a bluster of mild protest, the boys remembered how to get to the bathroom to clean their teeth and with some assistance made it into their bedroom.
Back to the computer again, I returned to the blog site to see how many new followers I had. None. Then by chance, I moved the cursor over some words which read 'Next Blog' and simultaneously left clicked! Amazingly, an American-looking family appeared before me, looking healthy and happy, complete with an Annual summary of their 2009. It instantly looked as if their year had gone better than mine so I clicked the magic words again and found myself on a Gospel blog. Then another, and another. And so it went on. I began to worry that somewhere on the initial set-up of my blog I had clicked something that suggested that the best place for my blog to be listed was under the heading 'Religion'. I have no objection to religion or religious blogs but felt a 'religion' heading would be somewhat inappropriate for my strange utterances and would earn me few followers, I am sure you will agree.
I retired to Twitter to review the situation and like a message from Him above, someone who I don't know but seem to be following had put a link to a blog that their niece was writing. Intrigued, I decided to look, as the child is only 10, the same age as my own son. I was very impressed by this child's book reviews, particularly as one of my intentions with this blog was to share books which I love. She was on this same blog site and I fiendishly clicked on the 'next blog' option on her site, and went straight to a religious blog, or three, before turning pages and pages of photography blogs. Satisfied that this child's blog was also incorrectly placed (but bearing in mind I am 36 and this child is 10) I turned to facebook,and clicked on the link which returned me to my own blog. 'Next blog' this time took me through a random and varied selection of sites (including one which I loved that is apparently written by a dog!)
So I have read some other blogs now. I have realised that I will need to get a bit more sophisticated and add colour and interest to my site. Even Bishops and Gospel leaders have the know-how to import photos and clip-art to their blogs, I am way behind in these stakes, but intend to right this wrong as soon as possible. I will get the Grumpster on the case, he's not afraid to click buttons on the computer.
Anyway, back to last night. When my eyes began rolling down my cheeks in protest to the endless staring at the computer screen which I had inflicted upon them, I walked away from my laptop (after first reading the many generic 'Happy New Years' sent via facebook and twitter), and ventured into the lounge to for a change of screen. Graham Norton preceded Jools, and with the wonderful Joan Rivers as one of his guests, I sat with a cup of tea and began to fall asleep. At 11.45, I decided I was not in the mood to prevent the end of the world, and headed up to bed. At midnight, someone let off a load of fireworks outside which sounded laboured and tired, a little like myself. After 30 seconds of a rhythmic !BANG! ''''FIZZ'''', all fell slient again. We had survived another New Year's Eve!
And where was my Husband, The Grumpster, throughout my whole, eventful cybernight?
Yes, absolutely!
Take care my following duo. Lucy. x
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