I have lived to regret my haste in turning Penfold down. It happened last night when I, in premenstrual clumsiness, spilled fizzy water on my laptop keys. With an AAAAGGGHHH and many an anguished swearword I swiftly rubbed teatowels and kitchen roll across the keyboard thus rubbing all the keys many times. With the worst of the water absorbed by the paper towels I then noted that the screen had rotated 90 degrees and was sideways on.
How then I rued the day I had spurned the advances of Penfold! For, had I been up for his Friday night dalliances, I could have got him round here immediately and he would have fixed my screen in an instant. Instead I gave him short shrift and drove him further into the arms of Irene.
With great presence of mind I then remembered I had the number of the PC World support desk, and I got through to a very patient man with a chocolatey melty voice (think of a warm Galaxy bar) and a slightly Aussie accent, and he talked me through the process of re-rotating the screen. (I did not share with him about the fizzy water but claimed that my laptop had malfunctioned at random.)
Calm, collected, knowledgeable, sexy voice, patient, did the business and didn't expect any other business in return. Who says there are no heroes anymore? So, services not required, Penfold.
My Granny Maud, a wise woman, used to say "what would I want with a bloody man?".
However, this was in the days before we relied on laptops. Now I know precisely what I want with a bloody man.
My daughter Martha and her two friends, each of them ten years old, are watching a music dvd on the sofa. I have told them I want them to go to bed by 11.10 pm.
The look I got from my daughter clearly said "Why don't you just designate this house a convent and have done with it?"
Come to think of it, that is a very good idea.
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