Due to inadvertently leaving my laptop at partner Sarah’s home on Ossett’s outskirts, I’m journaling this literary piece on a cheap tablet procured in July for me and my amour’s Majorcan summer trip. A purchase made to mitigate against my Macbook receiving a sun factor 20 cream coating while penning poolside.
Despite this device affording use of a Bluetooth keyboard, the writing experience leaves a lot to be desired, especially when compared with my normal ‘go to’ writing aid. In fact, the current blogging journey is so inferior to authoring on my Mac, with every syllable typed I’m reminded of my late mum’s retail advocacy of “If you buy s**t, you buy twice!”
Reading the above paragraph may move you to point out a product costing significantly less than another is bound to be less performant. Especially when pitting the inferior item against an Apple device. You may also validly venture my keyboard response times won’t be as instantaneous due to its reliance on bluetooth connectivity compared to the Mac’s hard wired peripheral.
Bereft of a decent response to those accusations, I’ll resort to the infantile “It’s my blog and I’ll whinge immaturely if I want to!”… Especially when speaker sound is so distorted it appears the audio is being fed through a biscuit tin.
Although this sloth like device is only a few months old, lack of use, poor memory and paucity of brand markings mean I’ve no recollection of who manufactured this electronic foot-dragger. All I can recall is procuring the product online and it turning up in an oversized box which could’ve housed a family of eight.
Despite my polemic, I’m sure the manufacturers of this electronic tablet are lovely people who adore their families, friends and anyone called Virgil.
Additionally, as their modus operandi is to provide computer access for the low income end of the market, they don’t deserve yours truly’s petulant observations. On the contrary they deserve credit….. So well done to whoever made this product!!… Ignore me and my capricious behaviour!
On a less petulant note, Sarah and I ventured up to Pateley Bridge, in the Yorkshire Dales, on Sunday. Joining us on the hour journey north west was her mum Judith, the sojourn taken to meet her sister Margaret who lives in the enchanting town many people call “Better than Harehills.’
For the uninitiated, Harehills is an inner city area in Leeds which, if the UK Inner City Area of Culture award existed, most probably wouldn’t win it. Like the manufacturer of this mobile device,though, as I’m sure all Harehillians are the salt of the earth; as such I apologise wholeheartedly for any offence… That being said, if the cap fits, and all that!
Judith is a bit of a force of nature who is spritely and young looking for her age… Or she would be if she was 120 years old!… Only kidding, like a fine wine, the Armley lass has aged well and was (I’m reliably informed) a bit of a looker before the introduction of electricity…. Sadly, this paragraph has more than likely knackered any chance of one day calling her mother-in-law.
Our collective trip to Pateley Bridge was to celebrate what would have been Judith and Margaret’s late father’s 106 birthday; the patriarch living up to the ripe old age of 103 years. A plan which, aided by our buddies monsieurs Carling and Theakton went swimmingly.
Hopefully we did Sarah’s grandad proud in a North Yorkshire boozer I’m told he knew well,and loved… It was a great few hours with the clan Brook… It has to be said, though, thank f**k he didn’t used to drink in Harehills!!