I've been a BlackBerry girl for virtually as long as I've had a mobile phone. There's something comforting for a technically challenged person like myself to know your way around the workings of these increasingly complicated Smartphones. As a touch typist, the Qwerty keyboard is like an old friend.
Recently I decided it was time to get another phone for private use and to keep my BlackBerry for work, so, in a moment of frivolity, I decided to ring the changes and dive into the previously unexplored world of the iPhone. Well, the iPhone 5 is, indeed, a nifty piece of kit and has many whizzy features that I will never understand, let alone use.
I'm one of those customers who has assistants in the phone shops rolling their eyes and mouthing 'nightmare, hasn't a clue' at each other. Maybe not as bad as a friend who, in complete innocence, asked an Apple assistant or guru or whatever they're called, if you could make phone calls on an iPad, but almost.
I text, I phone, I email, go on the Internet and occasionally take pictures with my phone. I don't play games, have no interest in apps (first time I heard incorrectly and thought they'd said abs), will never use it to play music, find my way anywhere, look at the stars, or do any of the myriad of other clever things that Apple has come up with.
The touchscreen keypad has been the biggest hurdle between me and my iPhone becoming great friends quickly. It has nearly driven me mad. I've been used to my BlackBerry being cooperative and accommodating and recording the exact word I type on a text or email. Oh no, that's not the way the iPhone 5 likes to operate. It has a mind of its own.
Yesterday I emailed a shopping list and it decided I couldn't possibly want unsalted cashew nuts so it did its own thing, overruled me and declared that I'd like some 'insulted cashews' please. Huffy nuts, what a great thought.
Then the other day it helpfully informed a friend that I was doing us 'grizzled salmon' for dinner. Clearly it's seen my cooking.
My friends are now used to having to interpret my messages and those who have iPhones themselves are past masters, having been through the same thing with theirs. A text conversation with an iPhone owning friend can be challenging to say the least. 'Did she really mean she's got the bird? Oh, got it, she's bored!'
A friend who is an iPhone veteran has told me that mine will, apparently, get to know me over time and work out what I'm going to say so it can predict my words accurately. That I find rather disconcerting. It's clearly not that good at it yet.
Wednesday 24 April 2013
Saturday 13 April 2013
A politics free zone
Politics has been everywhere this week following the demise of Britain's first woman Prime Minister. Tomorrow my in laws are coming for lunch. Between now and their arrival a sign will be going up on the door announcing that this house is a Thatcher free zone.
I have never seen the point of debating politics, after all my humanitarian, leftie leaning arguments are hardly likely to have a die-hard Tory suddenly having an eureka moment and declaring 'golly, you're right' are they?
The trouble is my father-in-law, lovely man though he is, doesn't work by the same rules. He loves nothing more than to bang on about politics and will argue black is white if it's the opposite of the view everyone else around the table is espousing. When my father was alive I would stand well back and watch them, one the son of a Socialist who believed vehemently in unions and didn't have much time for management, the other a self made man, a member of the management class and believer in free markets with not much time for the welfare state or NHS. It's amazing they never came to blows.
I'm a political being and have firmly held beliefs and principles but, as far as I'm concerned, they're my business and no-one else's. I don't hide them but I don't need to impose them on anyone else either. I grew up under Thatcher. My views about her and those of my father in law are as wide apart as the Grand Canyon. I've interviewed a few politicians in my days as a journalist and have concluded, generally, they tend to be much of a muchness. The best I can say about David Cameron, our current incumbent, is he has lively hair.
We're just back from a couple of weeks in America visiting North and South Carolina and New York. The United States is a fine place with many lovely, friendly people but I've found, it's best to steer clear of politics and religion especially when you're in the South.
I reminded the husband of this before we left the UK and pleaded with him, for the sake of a relaxed, pleasant holiday, not to come out with anything inflammatory. He got distinctly huffy at the very possibility.
Eight hours and two flights after leaving the UK we arrived in Charlotte, North Carolina, on a beautiful, sunny afternoon. The sons and I sat with the luggage in the Avis car rental office while the husband did the paperwork. Our accents were much admired, the wonderfully friendly staff took the boys to have their photos taken sitting in a whizzy Mustang, the atmosphere couldn't have been friendlier, until the assistant commented on the husband being left handed as he signed the rental agreement.
'The same as your President, I'm in good company then,' I heard him utter chirpily. Oh great.
The temperature dropped several degrees, the previously effusive assistant turned distinctly chilly and snapped in her Southern drawl, 'I'm no supporter of his, I'm a Ronald Reagan girl' and the bonhomie was long gone. Fabulous, we're not even out of the airport and he's done it. Sigh.
It didn't even come as a surprise when, suddenly, our pre-paid all inclusive voucher now was mysteriously £350 short and when, a few days later, the supposedly top of the range executive Chrysler 300 developed a burning smell and all the electrics packed up.
See, steer well clear of politics and religion.
I have never seen the point of debating politics, after all my humanitarian, leftie leaning arguments are hardly likely to have a die-hard Tory suddenly having an eureka moment and declaring 'golly, you're right' are they?
The trouble is my father-in-law, lovely man though he is, doesn't work by the same rules. He loves nothing more than to bang on about politics and will argue black is white if it's the opposite of the view everyone else around the table is espousing. When my father was alive I would stand well back and watch them, one the son of a Socialist who believed vehemently in unions and didn't have much time for management, the other a self made man, a member of the management class and believer in free markets with not much time for the welfare state or NHS. It's amazing they never came to blows.
I'm a political being and have firmly held beliefs and principles but, as far as I'm concerned, they're my business and no-one else's. I don't hide them but I don't need to impose them on anyone else either. I grew up under Thatcher. My views about her and those of my father in law are as wide apart as the Grand Canyon. I've interviewed a few politicians in my days as a journalist and have concluded, generally, they tend to be much of a muchness. The best I can say about David Cameron, our current incumbent, is he has lively hair.
We're just back from a couple of weeks in America visiting North and South Carolina and New York. The United States is a fine place with many lovely, friendly people but I've found, it's best to steer clear of politics and religion especially when you're in the South.
I reminded the husband of this before we left the UK and pleaded with him, for the sake of a relaxed, pleasant holiday, not to come out with anything inflammatory. He got distinctly huffy at the very possibility.
Eight hours and two flights after leaving the UK we arrived in Charlotte, North Carolina, on a beautiful, sunny afternoon. The sons and I sat with the luggage in the Avis car rental office while the husband did the paperwork. Our accents were much admired, the wonderfully friendly staff took the boys to have their photos taken sitting in a whizzy Mustang, the atmosphere couldn't have been friendlier, until the assistant commented on the husband being left handed as he signed the rental agreement.
'The same as your President, I'm in good company then,' I heard him utter chirpily. Oh great.
The temperature dropped several degrees, the previously effusive assistant turned distinctly chilly and snapped in her Southern drawl, 'I'm no supporter of his, I'm a Ronald Reagan girl' and the bonhomie was long gone. Fabulous, we're not even out of the airport and he's done it. Sigh.
It didn't even come as a surprise when, suddenly, our pre-paid all inclusive voucher now was mysteriously £350 short and when, a few days later, the supposedly top of the range executive Chrysler 300 developed a burning smell and all the electrics packed up.
See, steer well clear of politics and religion.
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