(Written on the laptop of Partner-who-loves-tea)
O.K., smile everyone. Laugh if you will. Or “Tut, tut,” at how my article about the great God DataTransfer was blasphemous. I don't mind how you react. I won't be able to read your comments yet awhile. My laptop has stopped working. It won't produce a boot signal at all. It's dead. Kaput. Mort. Strongly resembles an ER ward in a power cut. Not a single light or bleep. Cannot (never mind 'Do Not') Resuscitate.
Partner-who-loves-tea thinks that it's hilarious in the light of my diatribe against DataTransfer. I think she should be struck off her therapy registers. Where is the empathy? What happened to 'So how do you feel about this?' It's all she can do to stop the tears of hilarity from streaming down her cheeks.
It probably doesn't help that I've just finished reading Sarah Winman's wonderful novel “When God was a Rabbit”.
Anyone want a twelve month old laptop with no signs of life? And an ex-partner, ditto, which is what will happen if she doesn't stop saying, 'Sorry,' hiccup, giggle, 'can't help it!'
I know. I broke the Seventh Commandment and took “the name of the Lord thy God in vain”. Sorry to both Him and HIM but I suppose it's too late for that....
Household Saints by Francine Prose
2 hours ago