Though
the wind is brisk, the sun is out and I am typing on the terrace of the third
floor al fresco. The screen
brightness is set at maximum and the type size is 16 point, so I can actually
see the screen. What I type is somewhat irrelevant at the moment, because the
real joy is being outside and, stripped to the half (a description I have always
found unsettlingly erotic) pretending to myself that I am actually doing some
work.
It also makes a change to get away, if
only for a sun-drenched moment, from the pressing concerns of the virus ridden
world!
My view from where I am sitting takes in
the tops of the pine trees for which my neighbourhood is famous, the pool of a
neighbouring collection of houses and a part of the street. I can hear the sea
but alas, I cannot see it unless I crouch down and look through the top
branches of the trees (see above) and I get a small triangle of what could be
water. If I stand, then I get another triangular view of distant water with he
third side being the horizon. If the trees that surround the neighbours’ pool
were cut down, l would have an uninterrupted view of the sea, or at least part
of it – though I do not expect to gain much sympathy from my moans.
I am
typing outdoors because Toni is (hopefully) working his technological magic on
my non-starting Apple, and past experience dictates that my helpful hovering
does not lead to a productive working environment. It is, after all, a wise
couple that knows their mutual working limitations.
Though, having said that, we have survived
the constructivist horrors of mantling various pieces in the IKEA “Broken
Relationships” range (i.e. anything) and a couple who survive building a bed
with built-in drawers with instructions that looked more like a cheaply printed
Mayan calendar gets to sleep in it. Literally.
So, Toni is doing his ‘thing’ while I do mine: writing.
Toni has just appeared and asked me about
a ‘restore’ date to which I have agreed and will now type with my fingers
firmly crossed, so please forgive any typing errors.
I remember on earlier Mac machines I
would, from time to time, get a pixelated drawing of a round black bomb with a
fizzing fuse with the alarming information that a ‘Fatal System Error’ was
about to take place. I invariably panicked and then ignored it because there
was always nothing that I could do about it, so I just soldiered on and hoped
that a few random key presses would placate whatever anarchistic longings were
inside the machine and that it would return to jocosity and placidity ‘because
I wanted it to.’ And to be fair, it usually did.
As opposed, for example, for the numerous
Windows machines into contact with which I came. In the early days when I had acquired a
‘real’ computer that used floppy discs of the smaller variety, my predilection
for Mac computers was at odds with the educational establishment’s slavish following
of the false gods of Microsoft. The
incompatibility problems (and there were always incompatibility problems) were
constantly frustrating, with programs distributed by the school or the local
education authority only working convincingly in Microsoft Windows environments
and causing pain and anger for people like myself with a Mac. On the other hand, I constantly found my Mac
environment to be much more user friendly than Windows!
Toni
has been successful in repairing my computer and it is working properly. Though Netflix said that it could not load up
and advised me to check that I had the latest version of Firefox. I checked, I did, and Netflix worked. Why?
The ways of electronic acceptance are strange.
As far as I can see all my files are in
place and they are all backed up in theory anyway. In theory.
I
have decided that this day’s blog is not going to even mention you-know-what
for a single glorious day.
Tomorrow normal sarcasm and bitterness
will be resumed!
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