Sunday, January 13, 2013

The non-exploding laptop

You have no idea how serene I feel, writing on a laptop that isn’t threatening to explode. I’ve spent the last three weeks working with the background noise of a hyperactive laptop fan, which got even louder when you ventured out of Word into the apparently scary environment of emailing and surfing. I was frenetic with worry all the time I was writing, that this time the thing was going to crash for the last time. My new machine is so quiet I have to keep checking it’s still breathing (like I did with my firstborn when she was new.)

So, yes. I have a new laptop. And thanks to every one of you who gave me advice and suggestions (mostly to get an Apple) but I plumped for a PC. Not because I don’t think Apples look lovely, and behave reasonably, ingeniously and in a friendly way (and I am sure they are just as wonderful as you say they are) but because I couldn’t justify spending an extra £1000, which is the difference in price between this HP and the Apple with the same size screen. That £1000 will pay for another trip to see Lux and Cece in San Francisco. Which would you choose? A fancy tool, or these little sweeties?

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So thanks to Adrian of 121 IT services, who found me a brand new HP Pavilion Series 6 (old model with Windows 7, because Windows 8 is reputedly APPALLING). And to Dereje (also of 121) who transferred everything over so smoothly. They took most of the stress out of a potentially traumatic time.

This last week, while waiting for the HP to arrive, I played around on the iPad that lives in the house, and discovered it is ace for tweeting, playing Scrabble with the Aging Hippie in Redwood City, and catching up on the blogs I follow. I am still – even after years of surfing - amazed and delighted that I can sit in bed here in Derbyshire (in the UK) at 10 p.m. and read and comment on a blog in New Zealand (written by someone I have never met) and get a reply from her within five minutes, and then type goodnight to the Aging Hippie, 5,000 miles away in the other direction. If you could remember having a party line like we used to have, I bet you’d feel the same.

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