Wednesday 14 November 2012

Essential cock

For a company called TalkTalk, it is remarkable that you can't actually talk to them.  For as long as I can remember our broadband in Brighton has been intermittent, and a little while ago it stopped altogether.  It never really mattered before, but now we control the central heating through the internet (just how Jetsons are we?) having broadband is vital.  I was able to log the fault on their web site, and from there communications was all by text, including the one that told me an engineer had been despatched...he arrived half an hour later and immediately fixed a broken cable - all very impressive.  And it worked for a while, but stopped again last week, so I thought I would get it fixed.  Same process, except they asked a few more questions, and none of the multiple choice answers were relevant - e.g. can you make or receive calls (I don't know as there's no phone connected and I'm not there to check...so I said no).  So they've been texting me regularly with updates, and at one stage told me they thought it was FIXED, I texted back NOT FIXED so they're off on the trail again.  The truth is, the line can be restored by me simply switching the router off and then on again...but I can't really do that from 80 miles away.  The problem is not the router (as I changed it last time I was there)...but if they would only talktalk to me I could explain, and there would probably then be a simple solution, instead of which they are devoting hours, nay days trying to get to the bottom of the problem.

I've never really grasped the ageing process oddly.  I've remained consistently convinced of my own youthfulness, even when I am presented with incontravertible evidence to the contrary.  A couple of years ago I was left puzzled by not being able to clear the high jump at The Boy's school, but was relieved this weekend when I was the only one able to demonstrate some aptitude on The Muffins stilts.

However, increasingly I cannot dispute the inevitable march of time. Last night was School House evening.  The annual gathering of members of The Boy's house to perform for the pleasure of fellow pupils and their parents.  As it is cobbled together in about a week, it's generally a bit hit and miss, but always fun.  The Boy has always been an enthusiastic participant from his first year, but with the pressure of 'A' levels his role was somewhat smaller than usual.   This year what struck me was how obviously The Boy and his contemporaries were the elder states(wo)men, and around them swarmed the little people, young and enthusiastic.  How quickly time has passed.  How funny to see how small The Boy was not so long ago.  How funny to think in just a few years, the first years will be the leavers.  I can't help but feel the school system is designed to make parents realise and appreciate the ageing process.

In the Dining Hall there are always stalls selling half the country's supply of fizzy drinks, sweets and sugary cakes.  In the Great Hall there's an eclectic performance which in the past included a girl doing an Irish jig that left everyone bemused, and a girl belly dancer, that left the Dads looking confused and anxious.  This year the theme was an environmental one - The Wizard of Oz(one).  An interesting performance where a cow substituted for the lion (just so there could be lots of corny word-plays which were udderly ridiculous, and references to methane emissions).  In amongst the event we were treated to an episode of Futurama over-dubbed with teachers voices, and an episode of The Only Way is Essex with two of the girls (not having to try too hard to mimic the originals) in search of ice.  The audience roared, and I guess global awareness is a good thing to be promoted.  The Cat's Mother and I escaped after the fireworks, but before the raffle was drawn on the assumption that there was no way our track record of not winning would be broken.  Inevitably we were wrong, and our winning Tesco's Lemon drizzle pudding is awaiting consumption.



I received a video file today called 'Essential Cock'.  Now before you get too excited (I know some of you well enough to understand how this might drive you to a frenzy) I must point out that the file name was missing its' tails.  Delicious when you're thirsty or just fancy something exciting and tasty.