Good news, bad news

The first dog walk of the day yesterday brought some good news. A dog-walking friend who has been unemployed for a few weeks, maybe a month or more, had finally found a new job. Excellent. We were both really pleased for her.

Similarly, the next dog walk brought more employment news. In this case, a small, but still a job, for us.

I’d not gone on the second dog walk. I’d been faffing around on the computer and wondered why it seemed to be wobbling. I clicked on the casing to make sure it wasn’t coming loose. I checked the cables at the back which sometimes catch in the hinge of the screen (it’s a laptop).

Then I picked up the computer to look underneath – there must be something small hidden on the top of the makeshift desk that was making it move. Nothing. I glanced at the base of the computer as I was putting it down again.

The battery was sticking half out of its slot. I gazed at it horrified. Precious Hal was poorly again. I dived for the skimpy First Aid instruction manual. Turn off, disconnect cables and wait ten mins.

Turned off, disconnected and waited. I paced up and down the flat for ten mins. Poor poor Hal. His insides could be eaten away by battery fluid even as I waited.

Started trying to slide the catch things. The catch for the side of the battery that was still in place slid beautifully. The catch for the side that was sticking half out – did nothing. Immovable.

No! No! No! More expensive recovery at the Apple Shop. Boooooo. Hoooooo.

Partner came in wanting to chat about the small job. I dragged him to look at poor Hal. I gazed at him (Partner, not Hal) with sad green eyes. Beseechingly. I hoped.

He pedantically put on his glasses, pushed me out of the way, and said something dismissive about manual dexterity skills, or lack of in my case. Cheek. The battery flipped out. Bloated, expanded, and presumably knackered. No wonder the battery light thing had been messing around and the fan had been working overtime ….

OK, so far, three bits of good news – well the battery was retrieved from Hal which was good, and as I never move the lappy, I don’t actually need the battery. Also took the one out of the HP reserve lappy as well just in case that decided to take a turn for the worse. Now for the bad news. Sad news is more appropriate I guess.

All was restored to calm in Gibflat. Later in the evening, after sleeping through most of Quantum of Solace, I flicked onto FB. One of the recent posts puzzled me. It was from someone I had met some six or seven months ago when she visited Spain.

We’d ‘met’ on FB via a mutual (virtual for me) friend, and we’d shared some laughs and silly games. It had been fun, and she seemed like a warm, caring, witty, and friendly person.

When she announced last year that she was coming to Andalucía, I asked, out of interest where she was coming. It turned out to be not too far from us. She was coming with a friend who I didn’t virtually know, but I said, if they had time it might be nice to meet up.

First Friend, let’s call her F for first, agreed, but like lots of meet-ups no more was said. But then, suddenly, she was here in Spain, and we agreed a day and a time at their small private hotel.

We drove up and up into the hills where they were staying. F came out to meet us. I won’t forget her face, lovely smile and arms wide open to greet us.

I should say that these two women had given up a day’s excursion just to stay at the hotel to meet us. Even worse, although they thought they had missed the beach day which they could live with, there was a change of plan and they had ended up missing a national park day. Much worse. Still feel guilty about that now.

So we sat down inside their hotel. It was a lovely peaceful tranquil place. Reformed, but not over the top, and just, comfortable and a pleasant place to chat with – new – friends.

Second Friend, we’ll call her S for second, came down to meet us shortly afterwards. Bearing in mind we hadn’t even corresponded via FB, she too had a lovely smile and a warm welcome for us. Later we moved outside as the weather cleared up and chatted and gazed at the beautiful mountain views.

Er, rather cloudy mountain views here

These sort of situations are fraught with potential difficulties. We didn’t find any. Both women were friendly, good company, and there seemed to be loads to talk about. I’ve spent a harder few hours with people I have known far better.

We left at their lunchtime, having spent – on our part – a super few hours. Apart from anything else, we had left the dog behind and it was at least an hour’s drive back, so time to go home.

While I was puzzling over the strange post on FB last night, by Friend F, I noticed a PM pop up from her. S had died that day in hospital and F wanted to let us know. I thought that was so kind. They had given up a day of their holiday to meet us, a vague couple from the internet, and F still thought to let us know.

Even more sadly, like everyone else who knew S, I had sent birthday greetings from us both on Saturday in advance of her birthday on Sunday so she could read them in hospital. Her Facebook page was full of birthday greetings on Saturday from so many people wishing her well and hoping she would soon be out, and they continued well into Sunday. And then, later on Sunday, the comments changed. Into condolences. Yes, she died on her birthday. From cancer that had metastacised from her original one. Aged 37.

So – S – my memories of you? A friendly person, with a lovely smile, and a translucent skin, that made you look almost ethereal. And never a bad word or complaint or moan or anything about the hell you must have been going through.

Thank you for taking the time out of your too short life and your holiday to meet us. Hasta la proxima, guapa.

What happens in Spain when you don’t use surge protectors

When we first came to Spain we rented the villa from hell.

One of its attractions was that we could store all our worldly goods in the large garage underneath – and not have to pay storage costs.

So the removers soon turned up with our goodies. One of the first things I did was unpack the computer as I was sick of writing to people by hand. My handwriting is so bad they were probably equally as sick of it as I was.

All went well and I sat happily in front of the computer composing long letters to people I would never see again. Actually I have seen some of them, surprisingly.

One day, I turned on the computer, and got nothing. Like nothing. The screen tried to flicker into action but the box underneath (before towers were invented – or boxes were turned on end depending on your point of view) refused point blank to play.

After a few days of this, I figured it was not a temporary blip. We had met, purely by chance, a Spanish guy with a computer shop so took it to him.

Apparently the processor was stuffed and because the computer was so old (this is my nice IBM PS/1 bought in the early 90s) he couldn’t find anything to fit inside, so the only option was to attach something outside the box.

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?” says me dubiously.

“No of course not, just try and avoid touching it.”

Which is exactly what I’ve done ever since. And it still works, although it has no internet connection and now lacks a printer that can connect through ports rather than USBs. Nor was it expensive, so I do not feel ripped off.

Why did it stop working? Because we had two weeks of appalling rain, some storms and some power cuts. And we knew stuff all about surge protectors. Helpful (sic) woman acting as rental agent didn’t bother advising us about surge protectors although was fast enough to mention them when we said we had a problem.

So, don’t ignore advice about surge protectors.

We, or rather Helpful Partner, invariably asks people if they have them when the conversation turns to computers. When they say no, he promptly recommends they go and buy one (or more) immediately.

And do they? No.

And do their nice shiny computers go bust? Yes.

Out of three people who have ignored his advice, two have had to go out and buy new computers. In fact, one of those had only just bought a new computer. So for her that was two computers in weeks. For what? The cost of a surge protector at seven euros, or idleness, or it-won’t-happen-to-me? Oh, and the third (lucky?) person had to pay an expensive repair bill.

Do these people all have surge protectors now? I actually don’t know becuse it sounds a bit too much like rubbing their nose in it to ask again.

So, I will say again. If you have a computer and you are reading this in Spain or another country where power cuts are a way of life, buy a surge protector.

Unless you want an excuse to buy a new computer.

Buying a new computer in Spain

I think this is a long process requiring months of research and product appraisal. He doesn’t.

To start with, it involves several months of deciding to part with the money. When you come from Yorkshire that’s probably the most difficult part of the job.

Having (almost) decided to part with the money, the next dilemma is what to buy. Every trip to Eroski doubled in length as I peered at all the computers and tried to work out any visible difference or extract any meaning from the minimalist specification.

Then I tried to find some computer shops. It seems computer shops (English and Spanish) don’t sell computers any more, rather they tailer one to your specification and chuck all the bits in a plastic coated tin box.

In reality nothing new there I suppose. It just means the choice boils down to either paying for far eastern bits that get assembled here, or you pay for far eastern bits that get assembled there.

I bought a few Spanish computer magazines so I could tell my Athlons from my Semprons and my Celerons. I even found Pentiums were still kicking on, so I began to feel more at home. Guia del Comprador de Ordenadores y Software was pretty good as was Personal Computer & Internet. Don’t be fooled by the English title, it’s all written in Spanish.

Asked a nice man in one of the English shops what would be an appropriate specification for someone who wanted a good (ie fast) word processor and to fiddle with a few graphics. Not bothered about games or music. He pointed me in the direction of some lower to mid-range specification saying that was usually what he recommended for people like me. AKA middle-aged women who sent a few letters now and again – possibly rising to the dizzy heights of including the odd photo. I did point out that in the past I found most computers VERY SLOW and VERY IRRITATING and that I was thinking about using it for work but he seemed to think the middle-of-the-range-box-with-nothing-in-particular-inside-it model would be just right for me. I didn’t.

Then I rang Dell but never heard anything from them. They told me to look on the internet so I told them I didn’t have internet access and that was why I was buying a new computer. Obviously not interested in a 40-something behind the times English woman with dodgy Spanish. I looked at HP/Compaq, Packard Bell and Supratech as they were about the only ones I could see – at Eroski of course.

After flicking through my two trusty magazines and 30 trips to Eroski I was starting to narrow down the choices. The smart looking black one with the naff silver bits, or the grey one that wasn’t quite so well designed. At this point I had decided against asking the helpful young shop assistants if they knew any more than was on the price ticket.

He began to get bored.

“Just go to Málaga and get the Apple,” he said.

At this point I should confess that I have lusted after an Apple for some many years. In fact I have never met a journalist who hasn’t lusted after an Apple for their own private use. It’s something to do with a delusional idea of belonging to an exclusive club – that those of us who work in the print and design field have a computer specially designed for our unique needs.

Or it could be mind-numbing sub-conscious programming. Too many years in a newsroom sat in front of a tiny black and white screen with a little apple logo on the top of the monitor. Surrounded by colleagues all gazing at the little apple for creative inspiration.

But that memory had faded over the years and membership of the exclusive club had been uppermost in my mind for some time – an indulgence for when I had a spare grand or so. However, the IBM wasn’t going to let me join the club too quickly, and resolutely refused to have any breakdown whatsoever, so I never did buy the Apple in the UK. The only reason I ended up looking for a computer here was because the printer packed up and I couldn’t find one with ports instead of USBs. Just for the record the IBM is still alive and well 12 years on, but without a printer.

Back to the Apple hunt. I got ready for the big day and made the trip to Málaga. Wow. Cool shop. Not quite awesome but certainly cool. And computers that worked fast without me typing words in and then waiting five minutes for them to show up on the screen.

I reported back. “They’re good, and fast. Nice design, no awful tower, but they are cream. Everything else we’ve looked at is black or silver, why are they only in cream? Do you want go to Málaga and have a look?”

He didn’t. He thought they looked all right on the pic and the spec was OK. As I’d been promising myself one for at least ten years he really couldn’t see why I hadn’t bought it there and then.

“I think they are nice, but they are dear,” I said, thinking that was good enough reason. He ignored me.

I held out for a few more days, and then I caved in. We made a rare trip in the Land Rover to Málaga so I could walk out of the shop with it and take it home to play. I waited a few minutes for the guy to check it all over, grudgingly parted with my money, and staggered out with the large box.

We arrived home, plugged it in, switched it on, and it worked. Pretty simple really. Even I don’t know why I spent four months prevaricating. I hit all the wrong keys to start with, having been used to Windows 98/Microsoft for so long, and was gutted to find there was no huge manual for me to devour. Even in Spanish it would have been good.

Despite not wanting music, photos, movies, dvds, games and comics (and certainly not the internet) I used every single application within the first few weeks. I made the most of one of his trips to the UK and in his absence bought my first ever CDs – nice loud Spanish music.

And he does look very pretty, handsome really I suppose. He even gets wrapped up when we all go to bed, so he doesn’t get dusty. I have been known to wash his face and dust the rest of him. Everything else in the house is gradually going grey with ingrained dust, so he’s definitely pampered and cosseted.

He can be a bit unpredictable, but by and large he’s pretty well behaved.

Down sides? The cost of course – more than 1700E last year. And the fact that it came down in price a month or two after I had bought it, presumably when they brought out a slightly different version.

After care. A misnomer in fact. The telephone help line is awful and unhelpful. Their first response is to tell you to look at the Apple web site. When you confess to not being on the internet they immediately assign you to the backwoods moron category anyway. Then they spend a long time telling you to take out the Apple Care Programme for Idiots Who Do Not Even Have Internet Access. The only useful information I got out of them was how to eject a stuck disc, and had I not panicked I could have found it in the minimalist idiot’s guide (124 pages, size of a CD).

The only way to find anything out about Apple is on the internet, where you can cheerfully spend all day reading the Apple web site, information pages, discussion groups and more.

I held out on signing up for the internet for another six months, but that’s for another post.

Blogs computers and all that

There are some seriously good blogs around and I could get very distracted reading everyone else’s. But my time will be better spent writing my own. I hope.

Tomorrow I will have to say something about my computer, which is still less than a year old and very independent.

He will like to be the star of the blog for at least a day.

He is an Apple or a Mac or whatever you want to call it. With even less originality I occasionally call him Hal.

But that’s for tomorrow.