Thank god for the off switch.
No matter how sophisticated the machine: when in doubt turn it off.
Probably my internet radio (made by Roberts, of course) is more sophisticated than the computers that took Man to the Moon, but that fact did not stop it going through a ‘difficult’ period in which the message “Network Failure” was displayed. Now this message would have been understandable if the network was not actually working, but for every other machine the internet was fine.
Far be it from me to question the working of a Roberts radio: like Rolls Royce and ERNIE they work in their own inscrutable way and, like those two, one’s radio becomes an institutionalized part of the home. The one fact about Roberts radios, which is why one is prepared to pay the premium for their purchase, is that they go on working whatever. They may get old and tatty and bits might, eventually, fall off – but they go on working.
The second day of “Network Failure” after turning off and on again had not produced the requisite results I became somewhat desperate. I was missing my daily fix of Radio 4 and it’s just not the same if you are listening to it on your computer through headphones. Desperation called for desperate measures so I pressed the “Menu” button on the radio.
Although computers and call centres have made us more than familiar with “Menus” (capital letter and inverted commas) they have also made us more than familiar with despair. “Menus” always have sub-menus and sub-menus have sub-sub-menus so that by using these “Menus” we are allowed a glimpse of the infinite. But the infinite we are allowed to see and experience is a cold, hard place where human wishes and desires are subordinate to the categorical imperative of the unfolding “Menu” which is to lead but not arrive.
It was therefore with nothing approaching faith that I touched the fatal button and was presented with a list of options. “Network Failure” suggested that the option “Network” might be appropriate. Further pressing led to a list of networks among which I recognized the name of our Wi-Fi monster, so I gleefully selected and pressed it.
Instead of seeing the happy word “Connected” my despair increased when I saw a flashing cursor and the fatal message “Enter network password.” Alas! I remembered enough to know that this was not a password but a string of numbers and letters that we had most carefully written down “somewhere.”
I turned the radio off.
And when I turned it on much later the “Network Error” was still there. Cursing the implacable gods of intractable machines, I considered my options. There were, I reckoned, three: the first would be to continue turning the radio on and off in the vain hope of something happening; the second would be to find the missing password (!); while the third would be, I suddenly thought in a flash of pure inspiration, to take the power lead out of the radio and turn it off properly.
Which I did. Yesterday. And today the radio is working perfectly and gave me the news of the election. I am glad to see that my technical know-how is still able to deal with the most sophisticated productions of advanced technology!
Lunch with Irene at the Maritime with the usual chat ranging from personality to pursuing dreams. Enjoyable none the less.
Tomorrow back to work. But there are compensations. Wednesday is my early finish. Wednesday is the hump of the week: it is all downhill after that. The weekend is encouragingly near.
Ever the optimist!
No matter how sophisticated the machine: when in doubt turn it off.
Probably my internet radio (made by Roberts, of course) is more sophisticated than the computers that took Man to the Moon, but that fact did not stop it going through a ‘difficult’ period in which the message “Network Failure” was displayed. Now this message would have been understandable if the network was not actually working, but for every other machine the internet was fine.
Far be it from me to question the working of a Roberts radio: like Rolls Royce and ERNIE they work in their own inscrutable way and, like those two, one’s radio becomes an institutionalized part of the home. The one fact about Roberts radios, which is why one is prepared to pay the premium for their purchase, is that they go on working whatever. They may get old and tatty and bits might, eventually, fall off – but they go on working.
The second day of “Network Failure” after turning off and on again had not produced the requisite results I became somewhat desperate. I was missing my daily fix of Radio 4 and it’s just not the same if you are listening to it on your computer through headphones. Desperation called for desperate measures so I pressed the “Menu” button on the radio.
Although computers and call centres have made us more than familiar with “Menus” (capital letter and inverted commas) they have also made us more than familiar with despair. “Menus” always have sub-menus and sub-menus have sub-sub-menus so that by using these “Menus” we are allowed a glimpse of the infinite. But the infinite we are allowed to see and experience is a cold, hard place where human wishes and desires are subordinate to the categorical imperative of the unfolding “Menu” which is to lead but not arrive.
It was therefore with nothing approaching faith that I touched the fatal button and was presented with a list of options. “Network Failure” suggested that the option “Network” might be appropriate. Further pressing led to a list of networks among which I recognized the name of our Wi-Fi monster, so I gleefully selected and pressed it.
Instead of seeing the happy word “Connected” my despair increased when I saw a flashing cursor and the fatal message “Enter network password.” Alas! I remembered enough to know that this was not a password but a string of numbers and letters that we had most carefully written down “somewhere.”
I turned the radio off.
And when I turned it on much later the “Network Error” was still there. Cursing the implacable gods of intractable machines, I considered my options. There were, I reckoned, three: the first would be to continue turning the radio on and off in the vain hope of something happening; the second would be to find the missing password (!); while the third would be, I suddenly thought in a flash of pure inspiration, to take the power lead out of the radio and turn it off properly.
Which I did. Yesterday. And today the radio is working perfectly and gave me the news of the election. I am glad to see that my technical know-how is still able to deal with the most sophisticated productions of advanced technology!
Lunch with Irene at the Maritime with the usual chat ranging from personality to pursuing dreams. Enjoyable none the less.
Tomorrow back to work. But there are compensations. Wednesday is my early finish. Wednesday is the hump of the week: it is all downhill after that. The weekend is encouragingly near.
Ever the optimist!
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