FLATBEARE VIEWS
An anonymous writer finds life’s not always so pleasant in an idyllic village
The Story so Far..
I
’ve had to take a Devoness test to prove to Ms Grudge of ADDLED (Association for the Deportation of Downright Lazy Eccentrics out of Devon) that I’m a fit and proper person to live in the Glorious County. Though failing miserably I was granted leave to remain because I was writing articles for a posh magazine - provided these always said good things about my beloved adopted county. In my book this amounts to censorship, up with which I will not put - normally. But principles can be bent on occasion and this one seems as good as any. However, at the end of the day whether I continue my ramblings in print depends on the reaction of you, the great Devonshire public.
So I remain poised at the bar of Ye Olde Pig & Trampoline, one fi nger quivering over the typewriter keys awaiting The Editor’s thumb up or down. If it goes the wrong way it’s deportation for me, but of course you’ll never know that because you won’t be reading this. On the other hand if the fickle digit of fate points skyward then I can regale you with more tales of Flatbeare life, such as the Ghost Bus, how the ʻPig’ and The Ferret & Codpiece, the other late lamented village hostelry, got their names and why Ms Grudge bears one. Some time later... Let joy be unbridled - he say yeah! I shall eat again, but fi rst another pint of Rottingtum’s Extra Strong Licence Remover to oil the old typing fi ngers. Some of you may wonder why I use a typewriter. Fact is, computers and I have a difficult relationship. I had one once, about seven years ago when I was led to believe they were a necessity in the high tech 21st century, not just for writing but communication. Friends moaned that I was not on email; eventually I caved in. Sure, it was useful but I became totally sick of emails from so-called friends with a note saying ʻgee, you’ll love this one’. They’d obviously forwarded it to all their contacts in the mistaken (I hope) belief that
failure to do so would result in their garden being ravaged by locusts, or whatever other disaster might be hinted at by the deviser of this alleged joke/funny story. Those were relatively harmless ones but I remember receiving badly worded and spelled ones from complete strangers telling me I’d won a lottery I’d never entered, so could they have my bank details. Most people could see through those but I’m told by computer literate friends that the hackers are nowadays much more sophisticated; the email from a friend who’s been mugged abroad and urgently needs 2000 dollars or whatever to get home may appear quite genuine and is apparently the work of an English speaker. Now that the hackers seem to be able to take over your address book to send out all sorts of nasty beasties which seize up the works I’m glad I decided to revert to nature. Computers can be useful for helpful suggestions regarding spelling and grammar but some of the latter would have sent my old English teacher into a state of apoplexy. For example, a simple sentence like ʻI’ll get you a glass of water... drink it’ produced two alternative suggestions: ʻI’ll get you a glass of water... drinks it’ or ʻI’ll get you glasses of water... drink it’. The name of a well known South African ex-President was queried by the spell checker and ʻNelson Mandible’ suggested. Once the spellchecker suggested ʻrescaling’ as an alternative to ʻdescaling’ a kettle. An interesting suggestion: should I collect all the unwanted scale and glue it back on? Then there’s the expense involved in preventing alien infiltration. It was comforting to know I had a personal firewall, outbreak alert, intrusion detection, antivirus, antispam, privacy control, parental control, auto protect, email scanning, ad blocking, pop-up blocking, an allowed list and a blocked list. I’d say my computer was relatively better protected than my house. East Devon Coast & Country
Messages such as ʻEnd of Media encountered while backing up to non-removable media’ were enough to bring on the urge to smash that screen, throw the printer out of the window and take up a quill pen, dip it in the inkpot and write on old fashioned parchment. But fortunately better brains than mine had invented the typewriter back in the 19th century. I would worry about the future if I wasn’t getting on a bit. There’s so much pressure to try to get people to do everything online and it’s becoming very difficult to exist without a mobile phone (or just ʻphone’ as I believe young people call it now). I was pleased to read recently that a coffee shop owner was intending to refuse service to anyone trying to order whilst chatting on a phone at the same time. I heartily approve; it’s difficult enough ordering a ʻdouble expresso with an extra shot of something’ these days without a third party being involved. On the positive side of technological advancement I’d place the invention of the telephone answering machine. Even better is the caller recognition thing that helps you decide not to pick it up. Oh dear, I’m sounding like a grumpy old man, which is perhaps not surprising. So, on a more cheerful note I’ll tell you how the Ferret & Codpiece came by its name. Well, once upon a time... Oops, sorry, my typewriter ribbons trapped. Could take some time to untangle it, so I’d better have a pint of Old Paintstripper while I sort it out and maybe tell you the story next time, if there is one. Make sure you let The Editor know what you think.
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