My husband, who likes a good piss take, says he’s going to start a blog on me and my technical problems. You see, I love technology. I’m just crap with it.
I love my iPad, my iPhone, my camera and my iPod. I’m not so keen on my PC. It’s six years old and wasn’t exactly cutting edge when we got it. What I do with my gadgets is fairly limited. I like three things – words, music and photos.
I have no interest in games and very little interest in moving pictures. I use iPlayer three or four times a year – and spend the whole time cursing it for its constant stopping and buffering nonsense. And I look on YouTube only to learn routines for my dance class.
But I spend a significant amount of time writing, editing, organising and posting words and pictures. I also transfer them from one device to another – camera to PC, PC to Facebook; phone to PC to memory card; CD to PC to iTunes to iPod and phone. You get the picture.
These are moves I have completed literally hundreds of times before. Yet every step of the way they give me hassle. Every step of the way they confuse me. Every step of the way SOMETHING stops working. And it winds me up.
The Sky +, the Wii and, to be honest, even the dishwasher can confuse me at times.
Most days my husband gets home from work to a report of something that has gone wrong. Something that has definitely been broken. Some photo or piece of music or even my entire inbox that has gone missing never to be seen again. Something he urgently needs to look at.
And he doesn’t care. He has more important things to think about. Like his work. He doesn’t understand my obsession with it all. So he doesn’t help me. And I struggle on.
Luckily I have bred one of those kids that seems to have an instinctive feel for all things technology. His ability to transfer information from one place to another already equals mine. And, significantly, his ability to problem solve far exceeds mine.
So when I’m really stuck, I ask my 8 year old son. He’s always happy to help. Usually in return for a session on Moshi Monsters.
PS If you see my boss, don’t mention this. In a few days I’m going to need to persuade him that I’m as comfortable putting information on the website as I am talking to the press. My future may depend on it.