Dial a hubby?

One of the things that is the most fun about being a father is the amusement one can have by embarrassing ones children. Yesterday, I took computer savvy sprog 1 with me to Chichester to help me buy a new computer. I had left my ancient desktop in Valbonne, with its wonderfully evocative analogue screen that I had lovingly nurtured since late last century. It had been universally mocked by both sprog 1 and 2 but I liked the screen especially because I think it was valve driven, in that it look a minute or so for it to warm up in the mornings, and it provided a necessary platform for my printer. It was not one of these ultra slim screens that seem to prevail everywhere. One has to make the most of space in a kennel masquerading as an office and without it I would not have had room for the printer. That,  and its quirky performance were the main reasons why I had not ever acquired a  digital slim screen.

So to computer shop Currys, where the amusement began. It started with my acting dumb (some would say it is no act) about disc sizes and alluding to Alzheimer’s, in computer speak the lack of memory, was the start, and the other features which should be considered when making a purchases of this type also provided me with enormous entertainment as sprog 1 became seriously embarrassed by my apparent lack of knowledge. Lines like will I able I type things on this?, or “how can I make a carbon copy” (I had to explain what that was to sprog 2 later, but the salesman knew what I meant), or “where does the typewriter ribbon go”  are wonderful fodder for amusement in those circumstances. I considered asking “How does one clean the (food) processor’ but by thus time sprog 1 was becoming seriously unamused. I think my piece de resistance was when asking about memory. The very patient sales assistant told me it had a terrabyte of memory. So I deliberately misheard and asked what one should feed the terrapin and that I did not know they had such good memories.

On the way over, I spotted a van from an operation called Dial-A-Hubby as my picture today illustrates. This seems to me to be a splendid idea for a business. If I understand it correctly, it would seem to imply that whenever one is detailed to undertake an unpleasant task by ones spouse, one could avoid personal compliance by making a quick call to them. Digging, gravelling, cementing could all be tasks from the past, settled with a simple telephone call. However, I guess the problems could start if that nice lady decorator were to call them herself. I don’t want her getting an ideas. There are certain things that this particular husband chooses to, and can still manage.

Mostly good news, I think

With horse racing being staged all this week at nearby Goodwood, Arundel was buzzing last night, but even without that equine delight there seems to be a very lively scene in the town with live music at The Eagle, so after a very nice dinner at Butlers we checked it out. I wanted to see if I could find and meet the chap who told my sprogs that he had read my first book, “Summer In The Cote d’Azur” but alas, although there may have been a large number of people there who had undoubtedly have, to my surprise I was unable to find any of them.

As I have done so little to find new customers for Currencies Direct this week, except for plugging their services in this column, I shall make it a priority today despite the fact that it is the weekend.

Chris France