Computers

They keep me on my toes these computers. Never did computers at school. This was largely because they hadn't been invented. Worked in an open plan insurance office from age 18-26 (1973-1981). No computers on anyone's desk then. Asteroids and space invaders arrived in local bars. Learned to type whilst at college studying for the ministry. Got a typewriter. Used that and a spirit duplicator (eventually rising to the dizzy heights of a photocopier) to manage all admin in my first curacy (1984-1988). Vaguely aware of a mate who had an apricot computer. I think he'd built bits of it himself and had to keep the back off to avoid it overheating. He spent far too much time being distracted by it and cursing it when it went wrong which seemed like always. In 1989, in my second curacy the whole computer thing 'tipped' (see blog 2/8/03) and more people started to have them than not. Bought an Amstrad PC1512 and with the help of trial and error, some five and a quarter inch floppy disks (it had no hard drive) and a genius in the youth group called Davie I made my way into the world of pain that is IT.

Proceeded through an Apple Mac to various PCs whilst at CPAS and replaced Amstrad at home with a 458 or 456 or something like that and now have reached the pinnacle of having no idea what I'm using is called except that it is flipping powerful has broadband internet access and can play me music whilst researching the United Nations Charter on Human Rights and downloading e-mails from around the world before breakfast.

So it remains true that like a driver who has a powerful car and little idea what happens under the bonnet I have an oomphy computer and little technical knowledge. So this morning when I tried to log in to blogger for the ten millionth time a message appeared telling me my cookies were disabled and I couldn’t access my edit page despite the fact that nothing had been touched since I logged off and closed down last night.

Checked cookies on privacy toolbar and nothing had changed. Navigated back thinking I would try logging in again and instead of going to the log-in page it took me straight to a new post and the edit menu. I was in even though it told me I was out.

Maybe that is a metaphor for my life – I am so far out I have come back in again. Nice thought for a Friday.

Have by-passed cookie privacy rules for blogger to see if that helps with other things like photos and spell-checks (still not working). Someone will probably tell me this was a stupid thing to do.

By the way did you know the technical term for a front door painted psychedelically? It’s a way-out way-in.

Found the tent behind the wardrobe in the spare room but not before two of us had turned the entire contents of the cellar upside down. We own too many things.

Thank you. I feel better now.