tablet.
Don't get me wrong I am very much...
'I want!'
especially if its Apple.
The fact I can only use a nanoiest, tiniest, teeniest, unseen by the naked eye,
strongest Hubble-type telescope can't even clock it fraction, is either here nor there.
'I want!'
We now have a Nexus tablet,
alright I know, it's the poor relation...
don't worry I'm working on it.
Temper tantrums, floor laying thrashing...
you get the picture.
After yesterday's exodus of the family my head is reeling.
Why? Well we've been trained in the finer arts of recognising our offspring by the top of their heads. The whole blooming kit-caboodle have their different apparatus,
which they must check at five second intervals in case the world has imploded
without their knowing.
The cottage roof has lifted with tweets, facebooking, pinning, games etc.
Not blogging cos I'm the only one (nearly) who does and I've been too flaming busy cooking.
Phones are strategically placed within reach in the vain hope that an invite to something more exciting will arrive. Chargers are plugged into every available socket putting a strain on the National Grid.
Waving them all goodbye, with relief and a large drink to soothe,
I flop on the sofa. Weakly I stretch out for my spotty-clad new bestest-ish
friend. On opening up, I find apps have strung up like chickenpox pustules.
Well meaning I know, but I feel like we've been
cyber violated.
With all this info at my fingertips, I feel strangely artistically stymied.
My love of blogging is my random thoughts, without fear or favour,
sprinkled with words I know aren't proper words, but to me, feel happily right.
A form of flashing without actually getting your kit off.
Since reading Hilary Mantel you will have noticed the
proliferation (alright,I did look that one up!) of colons and semi-colons;
which I sprinkle like fairy dust through my prose.
My real concern is, if I get really hooked into this way of life, I will be tapping into the app that gives you ideas of
'What to write about in your blog today'.
'Is today is the day for the big pink knicks to clad your ageing bott?'
'Weather for Kent' instead of poking my head out of the window.
'How to encourage a hamster out of the back of the settee'
'Causes and Cures of Boils on the Bum'
'Tips on inane conversations at boring drinks parties'
'App to find the best app'
'How to live with your finger growing exponentially larger than the rest of your body, due to the over-use of your equipment'
I could go on.
My head's fit to explode, as it is, without more ideas filling it.
Blogging to me is a form of 'Good shit man!' with the added bonus... it's legal.
Well that is, until I really say what I think; then the water riven walls of the Tower might be my next source of material... Hilary again.
At least I'm oddly topical, usually my 'old dear' thoughts are fifty years of grey,
behind the times.
Remains of the visit...
mini snowman
maxi empties...
Champagne.
'I want!'
We now have a Nexus tablet,
alright I know, it's the poor relation...
don't worry I'm working on it.
Temper tantrums, floor laying thrashing...
you get the picture.
After yesterday's exodus of the family my head is reeling.
Why? Well we've been trained in the finer arts of recognising our offspring by the top of their heads. The whole blooming kit-caboodle have their different apparatus,
which they must check at five second intervals in case the world has imploded
without their knowing.
The cottage roof has lifted with tweets, facebooking, pinning, games etc.
Not blogging cos I'm the only one (nearly) who does and I've been too flaming busy cooking.
Phones are strategically placed within reach in the vain hope that an invite to something more exciting will arrive. Chargers are plugged into every available socket putting a strain on the National Grid.
Waving them all goodbye, with relief and a large drink to soothe,
I flop on the sofa. Weakly I stretch out for my spotty-clad new bestest-ish
friend. On opening up, I find apps have strung up like chickenpox pustules.
Well meaning I know, but I feel like we've been
cyber violated.
With all this info at my fingertips, I feel strangely artistically stymied.
My love of blogging is my random thoughts, without fear or favour,
sprinkled with words I know aren't proper words, but to me, feel happily right.
A form of flashing without actually getting your kit off.
Since reading Hilary Mantel you will have noticed the
proliferation (alright,I did look that one up!) of colons and semi-colons;
which I sprinkle like fairy dust through my prose.
My real concern is, if I get really hooked into this way of life, I will be tapping into the app that gives you ideas of
'What to write about in your blog today'.
'Is today is the day for the big pink knicks to clad your ageing bott?'
'Weather for Kent' instead of poking my head out of the window.
'How to encourage a hamster out of the back of the settee'
'Causes and Cures of Boils on the Bum'
'Tips on inane conversations at boring drinks parties'
'App to find the best app'
'How to live with your finger growing exponentially larger than the rest of your body, due to the over-use of your equipment'
I could go on.
My head's fit to explode, as it is, without more ideas filling it.
Blogging to me is a form of 'Good shit man!' with the added bonus... it's legal.
Well that is, until I really say what I think; then the water riven walls of the Tower might be my next source of material... Hilary again.
At least I'm oddly topical, usually my 'old dear' thoughts are fifty years of grey,
behind the times.
Remains of the visit...
mini snowman
maxi empties...
Champagne.
what a busy weekend I am just exhausted reading about it. I can just about text, make a call and enter a new contact in my phone! That cartoon about entering floppy disc did it for me ll x
ReplyDeleteThey've all gone... Phew! The quill pen peeps out from under the sofa... normality reigns.
DeleteLLX
we've only just got a microwave and thats enough for me...but it is good for drying undies quickly.
ReplyDeleteCan you be a nearly-luddite, the same as you can be a nearly-vegetarian?
That's a new one on me Elaine, I usually put my drawers on the line.
DeleteI nearly was a Luddite, till I discovered Champagne.
LLX
I'm definitely Luddite and I cannot even text.
ReplyDeleteAs when your family visits, our house hums & buzzes as they live their separate little techno-lives. Even the New Baby does it.
However, at Christmas grandson No 1 nearly wiped my computer clean, almost sending its (and my) precious history into oblivion in an effort to fix a little problem. I caught him in time, dashed him to the floor with a single swipe and spoke a few sweet words to my old PC, had a little think, murmured to her lovingly again - hey presto, she was fixed!
They THINK they know it all!