Tag Archives: phone

Cold Night, and Cake

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It’s 4.30, it’s cold and I am too tight to put the heating on. So I’m going to write 250 words as quickly as I can and withdraw to the living room. I don’t mind putting the fire on in the living room because we will both be there most of the evening, which seems a much better use of the heating.

I have been looking at my submissions. There have been none in November. To be fair there wasn’t really anywhere to submit to and I did have two weeks where I was devoting most of my time to thoughts of my internal workings after my unexpected trip to hospital.

That’s where my plan ground to a halt, as Julia needed to go to the shop and I thought it was cold and dark and not the sort of night for her to be out shopping. So I drove her down to the shop. 

I’m back at the keyboard now, still cold, and still trying to write as quickly as I can. As a result of our trip to the shop we now have cake, so the kettle is one and I really want to get done as quickly as possible so I can pay proper attention to the comestibles.

So, there I am – I have done no writing in November.  I also found, when looking at the list of submissions for December, that two of them are in the wrong month – they should be in January.  I really do need to get organised.

Whilst I was in the car park I rang Julia to tell her where I was parked. The phone wouldn’t ring out. I tried my sister to see if it was just a fault with ringing Julia, but it wouldn’t ring her either. Then I tried to text. That wasn’t working either, but it did advise me there was a problem and I should insert a SIM.  This was annoying, as there is a SIM in the phone. It won’t come out until I am eventually forced to change my phone again, or until the kids sell all my possessions on eBay after the funeral.

However, as proof that I can cope with modern technology if forced, I switched it off and I switched it one again.

It worked.

Bloody useless pile of garbage. How is this an advance on my 100% dependable old Nokia? I used to empty the soil out a couple of times year, drop it regularly and never had a moments grief from it. Phones should be better now, not worse.

Night falls . . . well, to be accurate, night fell, as the photo is about 5 years old.

My New Phone (I Hate Technology)

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Yes, I got a new phone. The old one was going wrong after many years of faithful service so I contacted Tesco, asked about a  free upgrade and spent forty minutes on the phone typing a conversation that would have been a lot easier, and quicker, if we’d spoken. Having badly underestimated the time needed to do this I had to hand the conversation over to Julia because I was due at the doctor. Having allowed 15-20 minutes, I ws surprised it took over 40 minutes just to arrange an upgrade.

It arrived a day later, which was brilliant service. I opened it, and that was where everything went wrong.

Bee on Red Valerian

I couldn’t get the card out of my old phone. I couldn’t find any way to get the back off so I resorted to the internet. There were several You Tube videos about it, but none of them were quite right. Finally I found a video from seven years ago and that told me. It involves a great deal of brute force. And that was just the start . . .

My phone seems to have gone wrong because the maker withdrew support from it, which explains my trouble with texts. On a planet full of electronic waste, they are selling phones and then deciding when it will become obsolete . Without the intervention of Motorola, it would have lasted for years..

Then I found I needed to be linked to the internet to do anything, and needed a Google account and a Microsoft subscription.

Marmalade Hoverfly

Marmalade Hoverfly

It’s like a tightening net. You pay for a phone, but someone else switches it off. You just want to make calls but you have to sell your soul to corporate America and tether your life to the Internet by a data umbilical. So far I have resisted but it comes at a cost of multiple messages about finishing setting the phone up. I’m also having to enter all my phone numbers manually. I am not going to live my life as an appendage of the internet just because everyone else does. One day I’m sure I’ll wake up and find that most of the rest of the world has been taken over by zombified users of so-called smart phones.

Julia, Sutton-on-Sea

And just about finally, I rang Julia this afternoon. I didn’t get hr but a message came up on my phone  screen about signing up for video calling. It must be the worse thing in the world. I don’t want people ringing and having a look at the clothes I wear when relaxing at home, or the woeful state of the housework. Anyway, I still hold my phone to the side of my head,  all the caller will see is a section of moving beard. Or my ear. Neither is a great view.

My new phone case arrives tomorrow. I’ve been walking round all day with it wrapped in bubble wrap as it is  big delicate screen. You never had any fear of breakage with a Nokia.

And did I mention it took me over 24 hours to even find the clock?

Pictures are selected because they cheer me up.

Seal at Donna Nook.

 

Confusion, Rugby and Russia

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Took Julia to work this morning, tried to get the mowers started, was unsuccessful. That wasn’t the best start. Sadly, with this being a project run on a shoestring they rely on gifts, and nobody gives a good mower away.

Went to supermarket for cash, walked the length of the car park (that’s my “exercise” for the day) and, as I got to the machine, remembered my wallet was still at home. So I went home, scraped all my change together and rang a taxi.

As I walked into the hospital it suddenly struck me I didn’t have my phone with me.  (This was solved when the lady at reception very kindly rang for a taxi at the end of my blood test).

Short wait, blood rest and good news at last. Well, mixed news, to be accurate. They have interfered with the natural functioning of my body to the extent that my blood now clots so slowly that I can no longer play rugby as the bruising could be fatal, and, like the Romanovs, I am likely to make a bad ruler of Russia. They achieve this by making you eat rat poison.

As I haven’t played rugby for years, and don’t like the idea of Russian winters this isn’t too bad.

The good news is that I can now go to the GP surgery for testing instead of the hospital, will eventually move to four tests a year instead of three a week, and I’m officially less likely to have a stroke.

 

On balance I’m prepared to give up rugby and Russia to lead a healthier life.

One of those days…

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It’s been one of those frustrating days again.

Wrote some emails to the hospital. It was difficult to get the tone right – no point being sharp or rude, but I don’t want them to think they can get away with second class service. The trouble is that you edit so much you start chasing your tail.

I’m having an Alice in Wonderland sort of feeling, as the hospital version of my story is subtly, and maddeningly, different from my recollection. (Yes, I could have mentioned Dali or Kafka there, but I would not have had a photograph to use).

Sent the emails and find that neither of the recipients is in the office till the end of the  week. By then I may well be on my third cancelled operation.

Dropped Julia off at an Open Day they were having at Mencap. This involved driving across town and exploring several sets of roadworks. They proved unexciting and rather frustrating.

Then I cut through Sneinton on my way to the pharmacy. The things I’ve ordered hadn’t arrived. Sneinton is an interesting place with lots of history, but, as usual, I ignored that and just moaned about the traffic.

Called at the jeweller, moaned about life.

Went home. Emailed the hospital. Rang hospital. Rang GP. Rang District Nurse service. No District Nurse available to answer phone. Hospital rang me.Got email from hospital.

If it carries on like this they will be inviting me to the NHS Christmas Party.