I defect

My p.c., as you may know, is not entirely well.

Jason did a super duper virus scan session with frills on top.  We de ginger syruped the keyboard.  He got a fancy piece of kit which monitors all extraneous non virus stuff and tells you what may be slowing things down (or in my case, freezing the screen until things need rebooting, five or six times a day).  He has taken my desktop down to the bare essentials.

Basically, short of totally rebuilding it, this little bugger has had the works.  Is it grateful?

Is it buggery?

It is just poorly. Poorly, poorly, poorly.  It works, for a bit, and then spectacularly keels over.

This is not ideal.  I am getting to the point where I may actually be able to resume some of my more literary projects, and I would like to do it without feeling like  the whole lot could disappear down the tech toilet every ten minutes.

I love my p.c.  It has been a stalwart friend for the last two years, and has done sterling service.  It seemed criminal to be looking to replace it.  But as Jason says, two years is a long time in technology terms, and it may just be dying a natural death.  Not helped by the fact that it fell onto mum’s kitchen floor last week.

Today we went to P.C. World to look at new ones.

I’m not really into techy stuff.  I don’t get excited about iPhones, or nano technology.  I do not own an MP3 player. I wouldn’t even know where to start.  I usually let Jason make all those kinds of buying decisions, because those are the things that matter to him.  Plus, he is paid an extraordinary amount of money to be good at this stuff, so it seems a shame not to let him shine.  I wouldn’t expect him to tell me about James Joyce.  He doesn’t expect me to know how much RAM I need, or what a dongle is.

Anyway.  Mostly the laptops were boring.  You can now get them in different colours, but even these were mostly boring, and cost about £100 extra to get them in pink or blue.  Gah.

I just bobbed around, nodding, and smiling and saying; ‘You choose. As long as I can blog, buy books and stick photos on it, I don’t care.’  Which is generally very true.

Then I was seduced.

It happened out of the blue.

They have a small section within P.C. World entirely dedicated to Apple.  This is staffed by a really lovely lady (Carly, in the Leicester branch), who is both technologically savvy, and yet does not melt your mind, nor patronise you to death when she asks you why you like that model and you say: ‘Well. It’s just really, really pretty, and rather shiny, isn’t it?’  She just nods sagely and keeps all her thoughts about sad, middle aged women who know bugger all to herself.  She is wise.

They are gorgeous those Appley things.  Really beautiful.  They are slim and elegant and they feel lovely.  They are neat and tidy and do not whir and sprawl, and tick and chirr.  They are needful.

I wanted one.

Actually, I wanted them all.

So did the children.  Carly was also very patient with children (I told you she was clever).  When she wasn’t selling vastly over priced technology to punters like me, she took the time to show the kids how to do things, and was extremely alright with them basically running amok on the bits of kit.  They had the time of their lives.

We have come home with an iMac.

I wanted it because it was lovely and shiny and desirable.  Jason was muttering into his beard until he had a proper play with it.  Then he kept calling me over to say things like: ‘Look at this.’ and ‘How cool is that?’ and ‘You can do this you know?’ and words to that effect.

He needs a new laptop.  I predict that in less than six weeks, he will be buying a Macbook Pro.

Tilly wanted an iPad.

We may turn out to be the ideal Apple family.

How sad are we?

I am rather in awe of this beautiful thing we have bought.  I have no idea how to use it.  I have never been a Mac user.  Once, about eighteen years ago during the dark days of my temping career, I was sent to work at a scientific publisher’s out on a half built industrial estate in the wilds of Oxford.  They wanted me to make a whole load of slides about liver cancer to be sent immediately to a company rep in Geneva who was due to deliver a lecture on their latest wonder drug.

They sat me in front of a Mac.

It was one of the longest days of my working life.  I had never used one before and had absolutely no idea what I was doing.  The temping agency had neglected to tell me about the need for Mac proficiency, or the company about my Mac inefficiency.  It was not a happy marriage.

Carly however, runs Mac classes every Thursday night at P.C. World.  They are free, and she does different stuff every week.  Not only that, but as part of the purchase price I also get free one to one tuition for half an hour with Carly when I want it, and free support via free phone calls for three years.  I will probably need all of it, and possibly an extended warranty for a further two years.  Even if we finally do get to Canada, the free warranty stuff is international.

I am very impressed by this.  If Jason were ever to be killed in a freak accident, or run off with a big chested floosy and I needed to do all the tech stuff myself, I am now convinced I would spend the extra to buy Apple, just because of these kinds of things, and the fact that the sales people obviously know what they’re doing (and haven’t just had a half day course they only went on in the first place because they get a free lunch), and are actually really helpful and friendly.

I find this stuff anxiety inducing, and to have it made simple, and explained in a way I can understand, and so that at the end of it, I can actually do what I want to do, is invaluable.

I am, as you can probably tell, completely sold.

I am typing this on the dying laptop, as Jason swears in the corner, learning how to use the new operating system, and install everything he wants onto it.  He has the bit between his teeth and may be gone for some hours.

Despite his swearing, he also seems rather enamoured.  If I get a go on it before the week is out, I shall eat my hat.