MISERABLY MAUDLIN MEANDERINGS

  I do believe that I am qualified to write a post-doctoral thesis on stupidity, and take a professorship in the subject.

  Those who are sufficiently misguided as to follow my scribbling will have noted my frustration at not being able to persuade my mobile phone to communicate with my computer.   The thing is, quite often it is the only thing I have with me when a photo opportunity arises, and it does take very good pictures.  A fat lot of good they are, though, if I can’t access them. 

  Anyway, today (Saturday) I suddenly got the flash of brilliant inspiration that I should seek professional help.  It has only taken some six months for that conclusion to filter through – real speed!  Braving conditions far better suited to a submarine than a car, I ventured forth armed with laptop, phone, and connecting cable.  The car jumped about a lot, due to the fact that I am coughing and sneezing at regular intervals.  Yes, the Boomerang Bug is back.

  Anyway, the local boffin looked at me pityingly, and in a few seconds flat had demonstrated how one clicks into the programmes which faithfully bring up my photographic masterpieces. 

  Filled with joy and delight, I navigated back home, going deep under the icecap.  On the way to the parking garage I had suddenly experienced a fear that my connecting cable had been left behind, but felt it in a pocket so all was fine.  Except that it was no longer in the pocket when I got home, and was not in the car, either.  Nor did I leave it at the computer place after all – I phoned and they had seen me uplift it.  I must have dropped it at the parking.

  So, after all that, I still can’t connect my phone to my computer.  It is ludicrous, absurd, and utterly, utterly stupid.  Why does some natural law suddenly block me from a practice I had become perfectly familiar with when using my old Samsung?

 

  P.S. Today I went out and bought a Bluetooth dongle back at the pillar after being chased from pillar to post with utter failure to find another cable. Why they didn’t suggest it the first time beats me.

My computer then picked up Sn-i-L’s Blackberry quite happily, but can’t seem to find the Nokia.  (I told him to fix his access settings, by the way.)    There simply must be some demonic intervention, here.

 

EENGLEESH SPIKKING

  I wonder what non-South Africans make of some of the pronouncements on our local TV?  I mean, here is a recent example which I took down faithfully exactly as spoken:

  ‘Ayi warn tewtu gnaw, eh-eh, thet we air lew king to feeks the praw-blem, eh-eh-eh, end thet we hev bin, eh-eh-eh, sicking een poot to meck thees, eh-eh, hairpin.’

  We have got used to stuff like that, so our minds translate it for us.  If not, it would surely sound like spookily kooky gobbledegook. 

© Colonialist September 2012 (WordPress/Blogs24)