LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 59 – Wednesday, 13th May

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!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 33 – Friday, 17th APRIL

After all my mocking denigration of hapless teachers who fail to come to grips with modern technology, I was hoist by my own arrogant petard.

     This afternoon was the on-line meeting of the ‘delegates’ from our cancelled language classes in Spanish and Catalan.  I don’t really know why I was dragged into this in the first place as I am not a ‘delegate’ but, ever the willing drudge I accepted my responsibilities and offered to join in.

     The meeting was held in Google Meeting and was by invitation, a click on the link and you are there, sort of thing.  That bit went fine, it was when I tried to speak that there were problems, well, one problem: it didn’t work.  My Firefox thingie was apparently obstructing its working and, try as I might, and even by going on to the systems part, I still failed to transmit my voice.

     As the others seemed more than happy to speak in reasonable Spanish I felt that my enforced muteness was something of an advantage for the preservation of my reputation, even if it did little to develop my language skills.

     The end result of this one sided meeting was that we are going to be offered a lesson a week on line, with tasks to complete and if we complete the tasks then we will be able to get our certificates at the end of the course.

     Meanwhile I have to do a little administration in getting our classmates together, explaining and getting information to the teacher.  It will be interesting to see how this all works out, and if I am able to get my microphone working!

The various scandals of the virus continue to frighten.  Now we are told that many hospitals are going to run out of PPE by the weekend in the UK.  The number of tests being carried out are still in the teens of thousands and we are expected to believe that 100k will be carried out in the UK by the end of the month.  The daily press conference in the UK is a time of almost unmitigated depression as politicians steadfastly fail to answer questions of ultimate importance.

     I do not feel that any of the politicians in power are telling us the truth about the real length of the crisis and the real consequences of what is happening now.  It is disturbing, no, not disturbing, more frightening that the UK does not appear to have an exit strategy from the crisis.

     The longer this crisis continues the more disturbed I get about the way that it is being managed.  I do not think a day has gone by when I have felt confident about the people who are making life and death decisions about our future.

     And talking of the future, it can only be a matter of weeks before the Blond Trumpian Mini-Me bumbles his way back into national life and the idiocy of Brexit is added to our woes!

Ah, me!