Author: Liz Dawes
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Regular readers will recall that I recently became reclassified as a Single Woman

For the avoidance of doubt, this means no longer married.  There IS a someone, but he’s neither here nor my husband.  More on which later.

A consequence of this one-adult house situation is that amongst the many things I must now accept is the necessity to, erm, ‘embrace’ the technology that controls my life. Urgh.  Now, I’m aware that for many of you this is child’s play – yes, I can see your looks of incredulity – but make NO mistake: I am a woman whose brain simply does not compute computers.  My favourite belonging is my 1920s typewriter.  I still have one of those stick-your-finger-in-and-turn -the-dial phones.  Even the bathroom door handle defeats me, prompting my decorator to confiscate it after he had to free me from the loo three times in one day.

I also have much more time for my friends.  Geographically spread as they are, a grudging acceptance of technology is compulsory.  Take last Thursday. I was beavering away at home, feeling rather miserable, when my phone started to ping (the iPhone, not the 1930s Bakelite).  It was Hatty, who was sitting in a café some 200 miles away, with her mate, her dude and his mate.  Incidentally, I got drunk with his friend on New Year’s Eve and rechristened him “Ginger Jesus”.  No prizes for guessing what he looks like.  Giggling away like a bunch of adolescents, they made enthusiastic use of the voice recording feature, whilst I googled busily in the background finding increasingly absurd pictures of Ginger Jesus’s to fling over via text.  I might not have been there in person, but hearing their voices and interacting so immediately came pretty close.  A modern-day miracle, with my very own, flame-haired Messiah.

Another revelation is Skype.  I know, I know. I’m a Luddite.  The Boyfriend, who lives in Denmark, got me on it so that we can chat every day without running up a huge phone bill.  Friends with long-distance family roll their eyes at my incredulity: “But I can SEE and HEAR him!  And it’s FREE?!” Apparently they’ve all been at it for years, but to me it’s nothing short of a work of inexplicable genius.  When my tech-savvy son’s ancient laptop gave up the ghost, my (blessedly geeky) BF peered at it over Skype, pronounced his diagnosis and talked me through the fix. Since an evening without Minecraft cannot, apparently, be entertained, I am still breathing sighs of relief.

So, I admit the evidence is mounting.  When I consider the fact that my daughter can FaceTime me at 7am when she’s at her dads; that I can keep in touch with my friends in foreign parts via Facebook; that I can message anyone, anywhere with WhatsApp; that I can email on the train, shop on the loo, download and read a book at will… yeah, I know.  It’s time to embrace the technological age.

I’ll get there.  If not, there’s always the next flight to Denmark!