I imagine most Bloggers, asked if they could cope without their computer would reply “yes, of course. It might be a bit inconvenient but I managed before and I’m sure I could do so again, if push came to rugby scrum, it’s only a tool after all.”
That’s the answer I would have given myself – before the tragic events of last Friday. When, with a distinct noise of frying chips my laptop expired, right in the middle of episode three of The Shadowline.
I was filled with disbelief.
Much as I had when I found the family’s pet hamster wasn’t hibernating after all. The thing looked the same, yet try as I might, it would no longer respond to my wishes.
Straight into emergency mode
I went quickly into that instinctive emergency mode known to all males, unplugging and replugging the power connection, removing and replacing the battery, switching on and off and on again, tapping each key in turn – and in varying sequences, and as a last resort shaking the lappy violently whilst walking rapidly about the room and cussing.
Nothing worked, the little blue light at the corner just winked reproachfully at me as if to say sorry but it’s not my fault, I’m ill.
I took to the phone and located A Man Who Knows All About These Things, who confirmed what I already knew in my sinking heart. My lappy was no more.
A Long Good Friday Weekend
With a rising sense of dread I struggled to persuade myself it didn’t matter. Not really. All I had to do was endure Friday evening – and surely I could manage that – then pop over to PC World on Saturday morning and buy a replacement.
Alas, by dawn on Saturday I had persuaded myself just a bit too well.
I hankered after a particular model of lappy, you see, one that PC World did not offer, and that had to be ordered. Yet I was assured it would arrive at my door on the following Monday – by any standard an excellent express delivery service.
Take my order
So I went ahead and ordered the one I would be happy to live with until death did us part. After all, it was only a matter of two days. And I had no urgent emails to send or expect, nothing that must be printed or researched. And I had plenty of other things to occupy my mind.
Except that my mind would not allow itself to be otherwise occupied.
For most of the weekend I paced restlessly from room to room, telling myself “this would be a good time to … I really ought to take advantage of … there’s that job that needs doing, been waiting for months …”
And returning again and again to gaze wistfully at that sad blue light.
Needed my fix
I was out of touch, you see. That was the trouble. No longer could I chat to the world from my armchair, no longer check the weather forecast for Belfast or see who had triumphed in the match between St Miracle and Clyde Clodhoppers in the Garlic League. I had become an addict of the worst kind. I needed a frequent fix just to function normally.
Fortunately by 10am Monday I was up and running on my shiny new magic box. Not without that last minute resurrection of the baddy so beloved of script writers though. Just when everything was proceeding so smoothly I had a big grin on my face, lappy decided it didn’t want to be in touch with my home hub. There followed a frantic key-bashing episode before lappy finally took pity on me and began to behave itself as a good computer should.
So now I’m back in the land of sweetness and light. But I’m keeping an ear out for the sound of frying chips.
Maybe you should do the same.
Image: Strange Ones under CC BY 2.0
