Skip to main content

Goodbye, old friends...


It’s been a tough week.

I’ve had to say farewell to three trusty friends who’ve been with me for a long time. I was deeply saddened to see them go.

This may seem somewhat pathetic to those of you who lack a sentimental streak, but I find it hard to let go of possessions that have served me well. So here are the items that I’ve had to say goodbye to this week. Please excuse the sobbing noises. I can’t help it.
1) Fat Face slippers. Age: 2 and a half.

This warming pair have been a lifesaver in my never-ending battle against poor circulation. Even in the height of summer, I have cold feet. Having tried some fluffy tent boots from a camping shop (or “The Yeti Boots” as my niece knew them) I still found my feet suitable for keeping ice cubes cold on a hot day, and got the Fat Face ones as one of those ‘surprise’ Birthday presents from my mother in law. Surprise, as in I gave the product code and size, and my wife purchased them. Their sturdy soles prevented the cold penetrating upwards, but the fact I’d had to superglue them back together several times, and the bald bits (the slippers, not me) were a source of much annoyance to Mrs G. They’d also stretched so much I tended to shuffle everywhere to prevent them falling off.

Reason for demise: Decrepitude.
Final resting place: Wheelie bin.
Replacement: Thinsulate slippers from M&S in fetching chocolate brown with wooly interior.
Sadness rating 7/10.

2) French Connection ‘distressed’ jeans. Age: unknown (over 10 years).

I purchased these jeans right at a point in time when an epic battle between baggy and a bit flared, and skinny and so tight at the ankle you needed a shoehorn to get them off, was in progress. I went with the baggies, instantly rendering the skinnies the victor in that particular round of the trouser coolness wars. Featuring deliberate worn/patched bits, and subtle marking to make it look like you’d had them for years, I had, coincidentally, had them for years. My mum hated them, which made then even cooler, and it had reached the stage whereby I couldn’t wear them anywhere as they were always the wrong side of respectable, whatever the situation. Latterly resigned to gardening/decorating duties, my trouser rebelliousness has probably died with them.

Reason for demise: hole in the crotch I could no longer get away with.
Final resting place: Wheelie Bin.
Replacement: None. At the moment...
Sadness rating 8/10.

3) Sony TV. Age: Approximately 15 years.

Only my 2nd TV ever, it was an ex-display one from Heelas in Reading – I wasn’t worried that it didn’t have Teletext capability, as I wasn’t much for up and coming technology. (See also CD’s, DVD’s, mobile phones and fashion sense.) The modern era of widescreen transmission meant I either couldn’t read parts of the text on screen (“wis Hamilton wins the Canadian Gran” etc) or had to watch everything in letterbox view, meaning the already small viewing area was reduced even further to the point where I couldn’t read the writing anyway. Having outlived a couple of VHS players, DVD players and, since the digital switchover, a PVR recorder, being plugged into its only scart socket, it’s trusty service and old-school cathode ray/square screen format have delighted and enthralled me since I was in my 20’s.

Reason for demise: Strange red lines in corner of screen/my failing eyesight/sadly out of step with current technology/Wifely complaints and hints.
Final resting place: Left with others of a similar age in a container at the recycling centre.
Replacement: A gigantic Panasonic TV whose screen is more than 4 times larger, inducing motion sickness for the first week of use and causing any footage of Wayne Rooney to have us hiding behind the sofa fearing an imminent troll invasion.
Sadness rating: 10/10.

Have a, renewingly, good weekend.

If you can.

This post first appeared in my 'Thank grumpy it's Friday' column in the North West Evening Mail on Friday 10th August 2012. This is the unedited version - you can view the printed/online version here: "Time to get rid of my trusty friends", was used as the title by the NWEM, and it received a another serious edit this week - down from over 499 words submitted by me to 401.

As the original version clocked in at 660 words before I edited it down, it lost a total 259 words by the time it made the paper! For a change, this is my full, unedited, version. If nothing else, you can at least play 'spot the superfluous bit'. 

(More Marillion today - The live album "Popular Music" from 2005.)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Making an exhibition of yourself

Now and again, it’s good to reaffirm that you’re a (relatively) normal human being. One excellent way of doing this is to go to a business exhibition. Despite what you might have surmised from reading my previous columns, I am employable, and even capable of acting like a regular person most of the time, even joining in the Monday morning conversation about the weather over the weekend, and why (insert name of footyballs manager here) should be fired immediately. The mug! True, there are times, often involving a caffeine deficiency, where it is like having the distilled essence of ten moody teenagers in the room, but I try and get that out of the way when people I genuinely like aren’t around to see it. As part of my ongoing experiment with what others call ‘working’, my ‘job’ involves me occasionally needing to go and see what some of my colleagues get up to outside the office, and what our competitors do to try and make sure that they do whatever my colleagues do better than ...

"It's all gone quiet..." said Roobarb

If, like me, you grew up (and I’m aware of the irony in that) in the ‘70s, February was a tough month, with the sad news that Richard Briers and Bob Godfrey had died. Briers had a distinguished acting career and is, quite rightly, fondly remembered most for his character in ‘The Good Life’. Amongst his many roles, both serious and comedic, he also lent his voice to a startling bit of animation that burst it’s wobbly way on to our wooden-box-surrounded screens in 1974. The 1970s seemed to be largely hued in varying shades of beige, with hints of mustard yellow and burnt orange, and colour TV was a relatively new experience still, so the animated adventures of a daft dog and caustic cat who were the shades of dayglo green and pink normally reserved for highlighter pens, must have been a bit of a shock to the eyes at the time. It caused mine to open very wide indeed. Roobarb was written by Grange Calveley, and brought vividly into life by Godfrey, whose strange, shaky-looking sty...

Suffering from natural obsolescence

You know you’re getting old when it dawns on you that you’re outliving technological breakthroughs. You know the sort of thing – something revolutionary, that heralds a seismic shift it the way the modern world operates. Clever, time-saving, breathtaking and life-changing (and featuring a circuit board). It’s the future, baby! Until it isn’t any more. I got to pondering this when we laughed heartily in the office about someone asking if our camcorder used “tape”. Tape? Get with the times, Daddy-o! If it ain’t digital then for-get-it! I then attempted to explain to an impossibly young colleague that video tape in a camcorder was indeed once a “thing”, requiring the carrying of something the size of a briefcase around on your shoulder, containing batteries normally reserved for a bus, and a start-up time from pressing ‘Record’ so lengthy, couples were already getting divorced by the time it was ready to record them saying “I do”. After explaining what tape was, I realised I’d ...