Have I really become so dependent on this machine to be this full of panic at the thought of being without it while computer-geek man takes a look? Or worse the ailing laptop might be terminal! I then remember that I haven’t backed up any of the stuff that lives within my computer. Nothing. Nada. People have attempted to explain about ‘the cloud’. All I hear is ‘blahblahblah’. I’m sorry now that I didn’t listen, couldn’t absorb the information and hadn’t the humility to admit that I have no idea what ‘the cloud’ is. I visualise a huge building, the size of six hundred aircraft hangars in the middle of a desert somewhere called ‘The Cloud Centre’ where all the information in the whole world is stored. I presume it will be covered in camouflage nets as it will be a prime target for the numerous nations that seem to ‘have it in’ for numerous other nations. I do, however, have an EXTERNAL HARD DRIVE but don’t know how to use it. I think it came with instructions but the print is so small that it would require an eagle’s eyesight to read it so I don’t know if the lengthy blurb contains instructions or simply terms and conditions in thirty two different languages.
To summarise. My laptop and I are both on the verge of a meltdown. I need a holiday, a break from this conspiracy. I decide on a trip to Devon to stay with a friend, who is also techno-phobic. I pack up the car with everything I’ll need, including the dog and my laptop. Twenty five miles into the two hundred and forty mile journey QT the dog throws up on the front seat. I’m travelling on the motorway and trying to cover the damage with QT’s towel to prevent the vile yellow bile from staining the vomit green seat cover. When my gagging reflex is under control I pull into the next service station and use my bottled water to rinse the solid bits off. Then swap the dog's towel for mine. Twenty five miles further along the M25 and QT throws up on my towel. I abandon thoughts of stopping again, allow the dog to eat the solid bits and open the window.
Two traffic jams and seven hours later I arrive. My friend has internet access, in theory. I have no idea who set it up but they were obviously security obsessed and I was unable to access any internet site of use to me and it wasn't as if I was looking for porn or to hack into her bank account. After three days I manage to bypass various parental controls (she has no children) but still can’t access any social network sites. But I can get BBC iplayer and as my friend goes to bed at 9pm (she works an early morning shift and is without a TV) I thought this might be useful. I forgot that she only has the minimum megabyte usage that it’s possible to have and still be able to say “I have wifi”. I used nearly all her monthly allowance on a TV binge before I was told to stop.
I’m back home now. QT retained the contents of his stomach on the homeward journey and I can get onto Facebook. My cursor continues doing its own thing, it even sends emails on its own, unfortunately before I’ve finished writing them.