Last night I finally despaired of all the quirky tricks my computer had been playing so I went to the gay paper I retrieved from an afternoon’s shopping in that now viciously smart, media-savvy suburb, Newtown. In the classifieds, sure enough, I found just one computer guy; he presented excellent creds, so I rang, we chatted & he agreed to look at my electronics this am.
Why do I have to meet tradesmen early in the morning? T seemed keen on an early start so we settled on 9.15am; I wove tapestry from 9.30 to 11 the night before, had weird dreams & got up at 6! Stayed up too.
Let me qualify my use of the term “tradesman”; I did so entirely without attaching any class-ridden patronising. A movie I saw recently: Chanel and Stravinsky contained the following dialogue; she: “we are both artists”; he: “I am an artist, you are a haberdasher!”, which certainly dashed any hope of success for their relationship.
T proceded to analyse my use of the computer minutely; his frustrating cross examination of the night before expaned into a series of beautifully lucidly logical steps. Most embaressing, of course, was when he suggested that a number of blue screen incidents we had experienced might have been the pc overheating due to fan malfunction. Sure enough, he then disconnected and opened the hard drive case to find positively cushions of the grey stuff, SHAME.
I began to think his ever polite but slightly driven manner a tad dogmatic, when he announced at the end of our session that he was studying medecine and would probably specialise in pediatrics. Suddenly, all was made clear. One could see the firm diagnostic bedside manner in its embryonic but emerging form. A beautiful poem of a guy, one wishes him well on his setting forth of a magnificent career.
One might revisit that episode of the Big Bang Theory where everyone in the room possesses a doctorate except poor Howard, the engineer; or worse, when Sheldon expresses his boundless contempt for humanities students and lower, ugh! artists. How we see each other is a constantly wondrous thing.
After I napped and rose, I found the incident had inspired me to create a Spanish omelette with chorizo, grated carrot and diced green beans, on soy bread with sliced avocado and wedges of camembert.