Just before Christmas I achieved something so totally, incredibly amazing that I think it probably ranks among the greatest things I have ever done. In terms of danger, raw physical courage and menace overcome, it was at least on a par with cage-diving with great white sharks or taking on the ‘Breastapo’ the other week over that incident in Claridge’s. As far as personal satisfaction goes, it felt like getting into Oxford, teaching my children to read, bagging a Macnab and climbing Everest blindfold on the same weekend.
What I did was this: there was a problem on my computer — and I fixed it. All by myself!
When I took to Twitter to broadcast the fantastic news it didn’t go quite as viral as I’d hoped. Perhaps you’re one of those people who didn’t respond excitedly. Perhaps you’ve always fixed the problems on your computer and frankly never found it any big deal. If so, stop reading now. In fact, piss off why don’t you? This piece is not meant for you. Rather it’s for all those normal people out there — arts graduates especially, I would imagine — who find the thought of trying to mend their computer about as appetising as performing an emergency auto-tracheotomy with a kitchen knife and a Bic biro.
Does that more or less describe you? Excellent. Now read on, for I have something truly shocking to tell you.
OK, so we’ve established that you’re not remotely a computer geek. From which it follows, I strongly suspect, that by far the most valued specialist professional in your life — certainly in the same elite category as your obstetrician, your ‘back man’ or your weed dealer — is your friendly neighbourhood computer techie.
Whenever he comes round to your house, you’re so grateful for his presence that all you want to do is hug him and make him lots of cups of tea (or ground coffee, if His Imperial Godness prefers) and listen to him rambling on about whatever subject takes his fancy.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in