I do not really think that I am daft, but sometimes it appears so when I have to deal with machines. I often think that I was born fifty years too late. The dresses in the twenties would have been just the thing for me, and no computers, just a little black book to write down the next dance in!
Another small problem with plasticity!
I have just set up my new computer so that I can write this evening's posting on it. I unpacked it yesterday and plugged it in, and sorted out a browser and an email programme with help from a friend but the rest I have done on my own. I have set up an email page and it works and I just tested Skype with my sister. Skype worked too although it was a bit fuzzy till I realized that there was still plastic over the camera! Now I am about to find out whwether I can post a posting on my blog. If you can read this then that worked too!
I think that I am going to enjoy my new friend who has a huge 17-inch screen, so my eyes are not straining quite as much as they were when I have worked on my little net-book over the past few weeks, I can see all of the page at once and not just a sentence or two!
Compatibility
I watched very carefully when I was in the office last evening, where I picked up my computer. I observed what my colleague was doing as closely as I do in the conductive group, and I took note of which places he was visiting while he tried to set things up for me.
Later, with the computer at home with me, I really surprised myself by doing the rest on my own. I now have the same Word programme on this computer as is also on the net-book, so I can type away at my heart’s content on my net-book, compiling my new book while travelling by train, without fear of having the same thing happening as with the first book. In each article that I wrote for that first book, depending on where I wrote it, there was German or English punctuation. In some articles, those for which I had transferred material mid-article, from one machine to another, there was a mixture of both.
It took hours of patient correcting by several patient people to get the punctuation all English, and then on the poster for Hong Kong we still got it wrong. Fortunately no one noticed, I expect that everyone thought that I was being artistic.
Book number one is available now!
I hope that book number two will be at the press by Easter! Thank goodness Easter is late this year. Book number one is for sale through me. My email address for you to order a copy is at the top of the page, and you can see the book itself if you click on the picture of Mária Hári at the top right-hand side of this page.
Distracted by technology
I had sat down to write a posting about stroke clients, not about my new computer, but I have been quite carried away by being able to set it all up myself. I even know how to install a programme now!
It is actually not very difficult at all and not half as scary as I imagined that it would be. One step at a time, who knows I may end up a computer-freak one day.
The story about my stroke client and her book-writing will just have to wait.
2 comments:
Aaaah, Bisto!
Why was the dog called 'T'?
Andrew.
Just in case there is someone who does not get the "Aaaah Bisto!" take a look at this:
http://www.google.de/images?q=Bisto+Kids&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:de:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=univ&ei=S1A_Tc3vCsjusgaX5o2GBQ&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&ct=title&resnum=2&ved=0CEEQsAQwAQ
The dog's real name was Tim, the same name that was given to all four Mallett-family dogs that lived with us in sucession since the first arrived on my parent's wedding day.
All the Tims were just called T. Not pronounced Tee but Th because when I was very small I used to go in search of the very first Tim and if I could not find him I would ask: "Where is Th now?"
On this photgraph I am with my favourite Th, Th number three. The photograph was taken on our birthday in the yard of my Grandparent's pub. Th3 had just joined the family, a present from my Godfather. As you can see Th3 and I had already got to know each other quite well!
BTW
One of Th's first teeth is still safe in my childhood treasure box at Dad's house.
The watch on my wrist (a birthday present too) is in the table beside me under my N-gauge layout.
The plaits on my head, that got chopped off just as they were, a few years later, are in the drawer on the other side of the room!
I bet you wish you had never asked.
It is no wonder that my book is called " Let me tell you a story"!
Susie
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