This evening I sat up later than I intended to fix a problem with my computer.
It was very much a problem created by me: in trying to see whether my printer was malfunctioning due to hardware or software, I installed some old drivers, and buggered up my active desktop.
Brief excursion for the technoplegic. “Active desktop” means having the software on the computer called ‘desktop’ do clever stuff. It does not mean indulging in inappropriate activities on a table.
I found the solution through some nice people on the internet and all is now fixed.
The printer problem was mechanical. It did not malfunction due to my printing my 100 christmas cards. They are very tasteful, and not even the most old fashioned printer would object to them.
Brief excursion for the technoplegic. By printer, I refer to a mechanical/electronic device for producing printed paper, not some old gentleman sitting in the corner of my room with a Caxton machine. He is not a gentleman, and that is not a Caxton machine.
I ordered a new printer from Amazon yesterday. For a small surcharge they guaranteed next day delivery by 1.00 pm. I forgot all about, being involved in some very exciting work, but at around 2.30 a Citylink van parked outside, and a man got out and rummaged around for a few minutes. He then drove away. This did not fool me. I knew that I did not have my printer. I checked on the Amazon site, and noticed that they were still anticipating delivery today. I also noticed that the printer had left Inverkeithing at 2.19 pm. The AA tell me that the journey from Inverkeithing to my house should take 7 hours and 43 minutes. I do not think that I will wait up.
Inverkeithing? (Have you ever inverkeithed, missus?) Just over the Forth Bridge.
Anyway the real purpose of writing this is that my attention was drawn to the Telegraph, who asked several people what they wanted for christmas. (Say what you like about the Torygraph, but I did recognise most of the people who they asked, unlike the sort of people who Betty features on her pages.)
Boris was, of course, on top form. “I would like world peace, piano lessons and my computer printer to stop gibbering in the middle of the night and waking me up.”
I suspect however that his taking piano lessons will not be conducive to world peace. But please note that he refers to his “computer printer” and thereby avoids all of the ambiguity that afflicted me earlier. Perhaps he was referring to a human being though, if his computer printer is sufficiently close to him at night to keep him awake.
So, dear readers, (aMToNW), what would you like for christmas? Be aware that I won’t be buying it for you.
16 comments:
I'd like Mr Scurra to accept that 'babylicious' isn't a porn term.
I'd like beta blogger to give me an account.
I'd like some more energy, preferably in the form of chocolate and fruit cake.
I'd like someone to come and do the high dusting for me, and all the other dusting while they're at it.
Apparently I have almost everything I need.
I'd ask for world peace but I'm unsure as to weather or not Mr. Scurra would be able to deliver. I'm still waitng for his Christmas card.
I would like Pammy's father to have his truck restored to it's original state prior to the tree falling on it.
I would like Carmy's son to come home from Iraq. (All the soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines for that matter.)
I would like Fronty and Tommy to post another blog entry.
I would like you to get an email back from Lorraine
I'd like the spare Cheeky Girl.
I'd like to play cricket again.
I have everything else I want at the moment, thank you.
Other than one of your Christmas cards, obviously.
Martha: If you say so.
Pamela: please be careful with your spelling. And I only posted the card on Monday. It has to travel across the ocean, you know. Not to mention the statutory three week journey around British sorting offices.
Kindness. They are very nice things to wish for. (Not sure about Tom posting. I worry for that boy.)
Murph. You talk of things of which I know nothing. Or very little. There is currently some story of which I am peripherally aware of a friendship between a politician and said young ladies. I do not wish to know more.
Dave. I do not have your address. If you wish to read my card to your congregation on christmas day, then you better get it to me quickly.
That is quite some skill you have.
I got offered my new account today, and a big box with chocolate and a martini glass arrived in the post.
Now it is pissing down with rain, so I'm going to open all the windows, and voila! The high dusting is done.
You see, Martha, I am simply babylicious.
A cottage in the countryside with roses around the door, three rosy cheeked children, the chance to do lots of baking, a lobotomy ...
Oh, hold on, what I would really like is an end to world stupidity. That will never happen, so I'll just settle for some perfume instead.
I'd like some inspiration to write a new post on what I refer to rather sadly as, 'my blog journal'.
I'd like the owners of this poxy blog programme to allow you to post comments without having to go back and login - didn't have to do that before I foolishly accepted their offer of what they proudly announced as, 'an upgrade'.
And lastly, I'd like to survive the chaos of Christmas without getting really annoyed - to this end I will strive to make my individual contribution to world peace during what are laughingly known as, 'the festivities'.
I would like a tardis to take me back exactly five years to the Thurrock Ibis. (This time I'd make sure the manager didn't call me a couple of weeks later to ask whether I'd enjoyed my stay. I'd ticked the bloody no publicity box as well)
I don't believe this. WF = hidee.
Oh, and I'd advise you not to bounce your knee like that again. I'm nearly 46.
More T&A on your blog. With pics.
You're not the real Sanny Claus!
I'd like a little more global warming across the European continent in time for my January trip there.
I'd like for certain Target customers to immedeately insert their credit cards into the large red space with the arrows that reads "INSERT CARD HERE," as opposed to searching the sides of the machine, the back, and the area around their rectums like they currently do.
Failing that, I could always settle for a few sexual favors from a Miss Kirsten Dunst, preferably while her hair is dyed red, as it is in the Spider Man movies.
yyfpefbe- The thing that the word verification told me to type in.
Don't forget to post details of your itinerary Adam so that we can all get to see you.
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