The trackpad that lost its click

Once upon a time, and a very long time ago, when Windows 3 was ravaging the land (reducing grown men to bitter tears of impotent rage) with its malevolent vagaries, one hapless seeker after gadgets stumbled upon a machine with an operating system that seemed specifically designed to invite humans to interact, allowing (nay, encouraging) adherents to be instinctive and logical in their responses to particular problems and lo! they were resolved!  The Holy Grail of computer systems had been found, and that system was enshrined in a Mac.

The Gadget Seeker was hooked.  And he stayed faithful, even though he was so lonely in his affirmation of the Wonders of the Mac because all his friends, colleagues and virtually everyone else in his little world owed allegiance to the false gods of Microsoft.  He stayed faithful, even when he discovered that the Grand Mufti of Microsoft had a secret decree that forbade those programs that worked on Windows from working with Mac – even though it said it would on the box!  Such deception!  So unlike the friendly, civilized world of Mac.

And the Seeker was true unto the Mac, and lavished praise and pounds, and more pounds, to affirm his faith, buying anything and everything that Mac made.  Soon his electronic life was enriched by iPod, iPad, iPhone, MacBook Air and a mighty all-in-one.

But our little Seeker didn’t realize that the providers of this profusion of goodies were no longer the welcoming, helpful, altruistic innovators of old – they had become hard and calculating.  They had progressed from their lowly garage cradle and had been shown the riches of the world - and they had Fallen, because the Voice had said that all of those riches could be theirs!

The Seeker was beguiled and listened not to the voices of reason that told him that his devotion was being manipulated and that he was being taken for a very expensive ride.  He clove unto the beauty of the design and the thinness and the lightness thereof and said that his eyes were wide open and he was prepared to suffer for his faith.  A little.

And the cost of his devotion was ever rising and he appeared to be getting ever less important ‘stuff’ for his money and doubt began to sow its seeds.

And then the dark minds that held sway in the realms of Mac began to flaunt their power and produced such vapid things as the Apple Watch - that was not really a patch on the Pebble and cost oh-so-much-more!  And the murmurings grew.

At last, as was inevitable, there was the Golden Calf Moment in the Messianic Empire of Mac and they flung a gewgaw of great price but little worth in front of their fanatics and screamed, “Buy!”  Behold!  It was the iPhone 6, and it was ridiculously expensive for what it was, but the Demons of Mac said, “Believe - and Buy!”  And many did.

But the veil was torn from the faithful eyes of the Seeker and he repudiated his faith (though not to the extent of getting rid of all the Mac stuff that he had, or not using it, or anything silly like that!) and vowed to turn towards Windows in a Dell.

Which he did, so now his MacBook Air (once his Pride and Joy) is now relegated to his jobbing ‘second’ laptop!  Ho!, and yet again, Ho!

But fate had yet a sneaky trick to play.

The trackpad of his main computer (a Mac) became skittish and refused to bend to his will.  And he was wroth.  It looked perfectly normal from the top.  Underneath, however, one of the two ‘pimple’ foot-bumps had become dislodged.  Its design was simple, it looked like the top half of a very small spaceship: a curved ‘dome’ with a circular flat flange around it.  That flange was supposed to fit underneath the bottom casing, but, try as he might, the Seeker could not get that flange in the hole, or at least not enough of it to make the connection secure. 

He knew that there must be a ‘knack’ to its re-insertion, or that there would be some useful (but specifically and exclusively Mac-type tool) that would facilitate the operation.  He also knew that there was a small Mac Temple in the town where the Followers of Mac-dom would work their magic.

Hoping that the practitioners would not be able to guess that he was an apostate, he tentatively entered the Temple and proffered the offending touch-pad with a simperingly dismissive smile at the simplicity of the challenge it offered to the Geniuses. 

The Chief Priest of the Mac Temple looked at the touchpad, looked at the foot, looked at the hole and made a few ineffectual attempts to reinsert the thing.  In much the same inept way, it has to be admitted that the Seeker had done.  Eventually, the Chief Priest turned to the Seeker and said, “The Engineer will have to look at this.  He will decide if anything can be done.  It may not be possible.”

The Seeker was puzzled, astonished, nay dumbfounded  Where was the specially designed tool for this particular job which could, obviously, only be used for this particular foot replacement?  Where was the easy display of ‘knack’ showing how melodiously simple and ‘right’ everything Mac was?

“Come back in one hour!” said the Chief Priest in a voice heavy with lugubriousness.  With a sinking heart, illusions shattered, despondency settling on him like dust from disintegrating floppy disks, the Seeker left

.

The hour passed.  He returned.

And lo! The job had been done!  The offending trackpad was brought to the Seeker by a lowly Server, who turned to the Chief Priest with a questioning look.

The Chief Priest looked at the trackpad long and hard, then he looked at the Seeker, then back to the trackpad and then, in a voice drained of emotion, he said, “That’s OK!” and dismissed the Seeker with a half-hearted wave.

Stammering his thanks, the Seeker backed out of the Temple, the only man to get something for nothing from Mac!

MORAL: Sometimes money isn't everything.

ANTI-MORAL: If you get lucky once - run!

Never satisfied!

I can fully understand why previous generations, before the advent of real science (as opposed to the mumbo jumbo that POTUS 45 believes in), thought that it was the rotting meat that gave birth to the carrion flies feeding on it.  It made sense: there were no flies; meat rots; covered in flies – QED.

This thought came to me as I was driving Toni to his hospital appointment for another test.  In Barcelona.  During the rush hour.

It is easy to forget just how awful driving in a large city is when you are surrounded by sullen drivers, hating your very existence and hoping that the earth would open and devour you whole.  At least that is what I was thinking.

The traffic jams I can take.  I have learned to count the minutes that each stoppage lasts and I have also learned that, in spite of the fury that I feel when I am delayed, the actual, real time that I am hindered is actually quite derisory.   It is a truth universally acknowledged etc etc that time is relative, and time is never so relative as when you are spending it looking at the backside of the car in front and wishing death on the driver in front and the driver in front of that driver and so on until the way is clear for you to progress.

Though the this-too-will-pass philosophy lets me cope with car-forced delays, it does not seem to have such a mitigating effect on my attitude towards motor cycle or motor scooter drivers.

I scowl (inwardly at least, and usually outwardly as well) at all youngsters (i.e. anyone under the age of 35) on two wheels.  If those wheels are motorized then the inward smile often becomes articulate as they seemingly swarm from nowhere (hence the image of the carrion flies and the rotting meat) and encircle your motorcar.  They come at you from all directions because, as far a motorcyclist is concerned, any three-lane motorway into a major city actually has at least seven (7) lanes for motorcycles.  They regard the three lanes for cars as merely the starting point for their depredations, as they see cycle lanes on each side of the conventional car lanes.

All that would not, in itself, necessarily be a bad thing, but the real problem comes when you consider the physiological make up of the drivers themselves.  Like flies they consider themselves faster with their reflexes than mere car chained humans and so they flit from ‘lane’ to ‘lane’ through a real lane (without the quotation marks) space as if these lanes were entirely empty rather than filled with large, four wheeled, heavy, dangerous vehicles.  No, these buzzing insects swerve, cut, under-take, over-take and ignore all the rules of the road right up until the realities of the legitimate road come into play and smash them from their fragile, relatively unstable two-wheeled mortality machines.

They (that amorphous crux of undifferentiated otherness) sometimes say that your ethical standard may be judged by how well your treat those who you think are beneath your regard e.g. Conservatives.

Well, though Conservatives are “lower than vermin” (Nye Bevan) they are not as challenging to me as motor scooter riders.  As someone who has actively, persistently and vocally bewailed the lack of a directional flame thrower operated from the driver’s steering wheel column to deal with the infestation of these two wheeled insects and who has (shame be told) urged that any scooter driver involved in a RTA be swept to the side of the road and left, I feel that my left wing, humanitarian and human decency level are clearly pretty low.

In my defence, in the comfort of my home and well away from a rush hour road, I look askance at the outrageous things mentioned in the paragraph above (apart, of course, from the comment about the Conservatives) and tell myself that my hot thoughts fail to take in social, historical, political, economic and indeed every other -ical and –ic that comes to mind and that I should be ashamed of myself!  And of course I am.  I do not, in my saner moments, wish harm on anyone – misery though recognition of their own evil, yes, but not physical harm.  What I do wish for is simple consideration.

The equality of suffering is something that unites us all which is why we all hate those people who push in or take a space or display their selfishness for all to see – like motor scooter drivers who use bus lanes and cycle lanes and pavements to STOP!  You are not in a traffic jam in the centre of a large city; you have a cup of tea at your side and a good book to read.  Relax.  Let it go!

If I am like this after one short exposure to rush hour traffic, imagine what I would be like if I was still working in Barcelona!  Thank god for retirement!

I have a further admission to make: this is not being typed on my new Lenovo Yoga 910, top of the range, 2-in-1, touch screen and back lit, no, I have reverted to my MacBook Air.  Part of the reason for my backsliding is that the Air is smaller and more portable, but the major reason is the keyboard layout.  My Lenovo has an odd, and entirely unsatisfactory arrangement of the shift and return keys on the right hand side of the keyboard and I simply cannot get used to them.  What the arrangement means in reality is that my wayward little finger finds a page up key and before I know where I am I am typing in the middle of another paragraph rather than simply capitalizing a proper noun!

Since I am a touch typist, anything which actually makes me think about the mechanics of what I am typing simply gets in the way of the thought processes and makes writing a chore rather than a joy.

The whole point about buying the Lenovo was to get me free of the stranglehold of Apple products that has defined much of my computer buying over the years.  As an earlyish adopter of an Apple computer I found myself with a computer system that was user friendly, but as a teacher I also discovered that most of the computer programs used in schools were designed for PC and not Mac and I ploughed a lonely furrow in the educational world!

It was the pricing of the iPhone before last that was the tipping point for me as I felt that Apple was simply taking financial advantage of a loyal customer base and doing so with total cynicism.  Enough of my money for them I thought.  Enough was enough!

I mean, I am not a fanatic, I’ve thrown nothing away and my major computer is still a Mac, but I am on a path to find another way.  And if that means buying new gadgets up to and including a new laptop, then so be it!

I will have to draw up a list of my requirements and then, with Toni’s help, start the hunt. 

Though the more I use my MacBook Air the more I remember how much I enjoy using it, so it may be that I am actually looking for the MacBook Air that I already possess!  

Technology bites back!

For a person who has been in the forefront of technology, when it comes to gadgets, all of his spending life, I am surprisingly opaque when it comes to the hardware.  As I type I am surrounded by a positive Bolognese of wires and an obsolescence of machines, but I am still a fingers-on-the-keys and bugger the mechanics of what I am using sort of person.  I still have a touching faith in the belief that makers of computers are on my side and that they are and have been doing everything that they can do to make my computing experience as joyful as possible.  Self-delusion of course, but it keeps me sane.

            Which is all a way of building up to the fact that things are not working as well as they should be.  Various arcane messages have been flashing up on my computer screen that, I think, indicate that things are not working at an optimum level.  As I have no idea what to do in response to these messages I have, of course, ignored them.

            This was a Bad Idea and I have paid the price as the machine has slowly but inevitably ground down to impotence.  That infuriating little circular symbol of many colours, which is an indication that the computer is thinking, and is going to ignore your commands, has become a more permanent icon on my bright screen.

            Eventually, of course, I had to follow the implacable advice of Toni and go to YouTube and discover What To Do.

            Eighteen pages of advice later I was more in a cold sweat panic than surveying the possibilities of restoring my machine to working order.

            Eventually, of course, I bought a program to do what I am sure Toni would have done at no cost whatsoever.  As the dreaded little circle of colours has reappeared during the typing of this missive, I am not sure that the payment of money has had any real effect, or indeed affect – I am still not sure about the correct use of those words.

            However, in the world of real facts, I am able to type without total frustration and that, in itself, is something.  We will have to see what happens when I try and add the Internet to the mixture – that usually does something more interesting and unexpected.

            I think that my basic point is that as a dedicated user of computers and so forth, I really do think that they should be just a tad more responsive and, dare I use the word, kind.

            However, they are not, and I constantly feel like throwing whatever device I am using away from me with extreme force.

            At which time, of course, I need to remember that I am of the generation where schools had only one BBC B computer to their names and counted themselves lucky.  I am of the generation that used an early version of Windows where the sacrifice of a full-blooded cockerel was sine quo non for anything to work.  I am of the generation when things simply didn’t work.

            But I thought that things had changed.  I put this down to the fact that I had a Mac at a fairly early stage of my computer development and got used to an operating system that seemed to be user friendly.  And when Windows stole the operating system that Apple had already stolen in their turn I thought that things had finally got to a stage where you could relax: the computer was on your side.

            Well, that didn’t really happen, and, in spite of the developed sophistication and complexity of the computers, they still have the unerring capability of reducing you to stuttering imbecility at a single keystroke.  But I wouldn’t be without them.

            So, it is with increasing excitement and ill concealed impatience that I await my latest gadget.  I am not sure what “between 3 and 5 working days” to get it to me actually means to the distant Chinese factory producing the mobile phone that I have ordered (apart, of course, of it not being “between 3 and 5 working days”) but, in spite of the fact that I rarely use the phone as a phone, I cannot wait for the gleaming (golden) outsized piece of bling to arrive and for me to get down to the serious business of not understanding its most basic capabilities!

If I want to frighten myself, I just sit down and try and work out how much my parents and I have paid over the years for my poor sight.  Admittedly in the early years of my sight deterioration I had a pair of round NHS black wire rimmed curly ear ended things that made me look, as my father so caringly pointed out like, “the Owl of the Remove”!

            My glasses became a little more presentable over the years, but the price and the delay in getting them made – as well as the sheer discomfort of wearing the bloody things made them a Necessary Object of Dislike.  I am sure that there is another blog post of a disquisition on the number of NODs that one has in one’s life, but this is not the time.

            As soon as it became a practical possibility I turned to contact lenses.  I was so keen to have them that I even paid part of the cost out of my own money!  I think it was this measure that persuaded my parents that I was in deadly earnest and they ponied up for the rest.

            I still remember my first fitting for lenses.  They were eventually placed on my eyes and, as they were made of hard plastic, the eye did its best to get rid of them.  It was impossible to raise one’s eyes from the downcast position because of the extreme pain.  Having got the things in, I was then sent from Windsor Place in Cardiff where my optician was situated, to wander around town for an extended period of time to allow the oxygen (in the centre of a city!) to do its stuff and see if my eyes would accept the lenses.

            I stumbled back into the opticians after having looked like a self-effacing picture of modesty, emitting yelps of pain when I forgot and raised my eyes.  I persevered and became a confirmed contact lens wearer.

            Recently I have gone back to my glasses, but fickle as ever, I have now decided to return to the lenses.

            And how much easier is it when they are daily lenses and made out of accommodating plastic.

            My problem of being short sighted and long sighted at the same time has attempted to be coped with by a variety of contact lens prescriptions – none of which has worked.  I have therefore decided to go with a contact lens prescription for normal seeing and using magnetic glasses for reading.

            The magnetic glasses are hideous and I am not sure how you are supposed to transport them.  I know that the fact that they ‘break’ means that you should wear them around your neck, but how does that work when you are driving?

            Something else to complicate my life.

Well this writing has seeped on over days and I am going to post it to get it out of the way and allow something new to take its place.

Realization

Apple – The Great Satan

I think that I am moving into my apostate stage in my relationship with Apple.

You must understand that this is being written on a MacBook Air, that there is an iMac upstairs, the iPad is on my left and my iPhone is in my pocket.  If I had to find an analogy for my situation I would suggest that it is like a Spaniard living in Spain.  This is a Roman Catholic country in which the church has an unfortunate political and social influence; where people cross themselves without a second thought – but where most Spaniards do not go to church and have what I regard as a healthy loathing of the institution.  So, while I am surrounded by Apple stuff I feel myself more and more distanced from it – even as I continue to use it.

And, of course, it really has to do with money.  Which at the moment is trumping aesthetics.

The Great Turning Point for me was the latest iPhone.  A beautiful thing with some interesting features – but the price!  The price is, I think, disgusting.  It is Apple at their grasping worst, confidently expecting to exploit, fully, their dedicated customer base.

And the Apple Watch!  I have followed the development of this item with all the avidity that one would expect from a person who was converted to Mac when the Windows experience was one of continued frustration.  My Mac (in those long lost days of customer consideration) was a friendly machine which usually did things that I expected it to and when I wanted something to happen I could follow simple logic and it usually worked.  Programs didn’t of course.  How cruel those words “Also works with Mac” were on most products.  It encouraged you to buy and then to cry and the things refused to work the way they did on Microsoft.  But that was then and this is now.

To me, the Apple watch looks like a thing of beauty – a rather big thing of beauty to strap to your wrist admittedly, but something you might (ha!) want.  Especially if you were an Apple aficionado com yo!

The first, and for me, crucial flaw in the Apple Watch enterprise was that it was not waterproof.  They produce a sports version of the watch and it isn’t waterproof!  Go figure!  The second was the absurd battery life.  They tried to take credit for it lasting a whole day!  Which means that you have to charge it each night and so the apps which monitor sleep are impossible with this watch.  The third was the fact that the watch came to life when you lifted your wrist, not in other words with a permanent display.

The more information that came out, no matter how well presented it was (and it was) just added to the disquiet.

And then there was the price.  Quite apart from the obscenity of the solid gold version of the watch, the regular price is high.  We are being asked to pay for a fashion item which is going to be out of date and sneered at in a year.  Few people look at television via the cathode ray tube anymore and, with the increased pace of fashion technology obsolescence wearing a first generation Apple Watch is going to be a faux pas in months!

I am no Savonarola, I have no intention of jettisoning the vast amount of money invested in my Mac stuff, just to make a point.  And, my MacBook Air was, and remains, a thing of beauty and elegance.  But my next computer is not going to be a Mac.  I now recognize that I can get a damn sight more bang for my buck by turning towards the dark side of PC, Microsoft, Windows and Android than I can ever expect from the profit generator that is Apple.

I still feel a bit of heel saying it though!

2001 – A Blog Odyssey

My stats tell me that this is my 2,001st blog entry!

            It’s difficult to know where to go after an opening sentence like that – though having written a couple of thousand blog entries it really shouldn’t be that difficult.  I do, after all, have something of a back catalogue to draw on!

            It is daunting though – as much for my readers as for anyone – that the sheer number of words generated means that I have probably written the equivalent of the books in the Old Testament!  Though I now realise that the comparison I have made is a little sweeping, almost as if I am claiming the same profundity – which I am not, by the way!

            I have never pretended that this blog is anything more than an opinionated, prejudice filled, occasional diary, dedicated to the oddities that I find around my day to day life – but it is also a time capsule, like any diary, and I can read certain parts of this ‘journal’ with the same sense of discovery of a stranger!

            Sometimes reading parts of this extended reflection does not necessarily bring back my specific memories, but it does generate responses and some humour, almost as if I were another me reading what the former me was thinking and doing.

            It is amazing that these words are read around the world and it is humbling at the same time.  Quite what people make of them is also part of the pleasure of writing.  And as long as I have a single reader other than myself, I will continue to add to this quotidian saga!

            And to my readers: a heartfelt thanks!

What next?

 

Toni, as a steadfast non-reader of my poems, is constantly appalled at my choice of subject matter.  On being told that one of my latest poems was about a car park (Car Park Country at http://smrnewpoems.blogspot.com.es/) he asked when I was going to write a poem about underpants!

            Which I think is a fair point and, given the range of subject matter that I find appropriate for my muse, I feel it is only a matter of time!

            Meanwhile I am hoping to have sight of the first few poems of Autumn Trees translated into Catalan.  If my plan comes to fruition they will form part of the complex centrepiece of my forthcoming book Flesh Can Be Bright which, as I say as a sort of mantra in the hope that it will be true, will be published on United Nations Day, the 24^th of October, 2015. (DV)

Pillow talk

There are many hardships that I am prepared to undergo with silence and dignity, but uncomfortable pillows are not one of them.

            For me the pillow is the central feature of the bed and where I lay my head is central to the experience of rest.

            At the moment the experience is not restful.  Which is not to say that I do not go to sleep.  That is one thing that I do with expedition and profundity – but it is the lead up to oblivion that is taxing me at the moment.

            I prefer feather pillows and always have.  I know that there are authorities (there always are) that tell me that feathers are nowhere near the healthiest option you can choose, but that has never been an overriding constraint on my behaviour.

            The most comfortable pillow I have ever discovered was in El Corte Ingles and I was all for buying it, when I was told the price.  I can no longer remember exactly how much it (it was only one) cost because of the psychological counselling that I have had, but the sum was vast!  And more!  And even I have my limits for self-indulgence!

            I have been searching for a reasonably priced alternative ever since.  I thought that I had found a perfect compromise between composition and commodification (I wanted to say ‘price’ there, but it didn’t start with a ‘C’) in a local supermarket.  I thought that I have found the perfect pillow for price and performance (see, I got the word in!) until I needed to change the pillow and found that the store did not stock that particular type any more.

            I bought a feather alternative and it is like sleeping on rock.  Every time I put my head down I grumble.  Silently, just before unconsciousness.  Toni maintains that my entry to the Land of Nod is synonymous with my head touching the pillow – but that is not true and the ‘grumble period’ is becoming more irritating and therefore Something Must Be Done.

            I have geared myself up to sally forth after my swim and take in the shops (never a hardship for me) in pursuit of the perfect pillow.  Again.

The British Library

After a number of years I am going to re-join the British Library – or at least get a Readers’ Card (one feels that it deserves capital letters) so that I can use the facilities when I visit London at the end of the month.

            In theory, I have been told over the phone by a very nice lady form the membership department, I will be able to get a temporary Readers’ Card and order books which will be ready for me to read when I am in London.  I should also have full access to the digital catalogue.  All of this in theory.

            Today I intend to put the theory to the test and find out if such access is real.

            The best part about it will be to watch Toni’s irritation as I am prepared to bet that such a thing will be totally impossible with the National Library in Spain.  We shall see.  And, as always, I live in hope!