The office, at the top of our crumbling three-story town house in Edelvale Road, which always reminded me of the television programme 'Crapston Villas,' was missing something. There was a fax machine, which worked intermittently, the preferred method of contact in the mid to late nineties, an old rusty imperial 1950s typewriter, that I had acquired from one of the many car boot sales, I used to frequent on a Sunday morning and a 'Canon Starwriter' word processor, my pride and joy. It was slow cumbersome, difficult to navigate, with the smallest screen, but it was perfect for putting thoughts to paper and storing a lifetime of memories. With a pink floral winged back armchair, a huge, bulky wooden cased television and antique leaded glass fronted mahogany bookcase, squeezed next to a rather large overbearing exercise strider, all the rage back then, it was the perfect retreat to escape from the World. Alone with my thoughts I was able to relax and unwind, away from the rest of the house; It was the beginning of my love/hate relationship with technology that still exists today!
The World was moving on, the internet was just beginning to bloom and most people I knew had a computer, not something I was particularly interested in, it has to be said. I had heard so many horror stories and after being given a ZX Spectrum 48k for Christmas in the early 1980s, I always said I would 'never go there again.' The screeching of the tape recorder for hours on end, as Daley Thompsons Decathlon loaded, was just too much to bear. I wasn't ready then, and I wasn't sure I was ready now, for that leap into the dark and the purchase of a new desk top computer. Nevertheless, it was time to embrace the new World and bow to modernity, after all this was the way of the future.
In the corner of the office sat a large Argos Catalogue, placed on top of the even larger telephone directory and a bigger still yellow pages. Perched between them all, was a notepad, where each of us would write down the telephone calls we made; all very forward thinking and organised; the reality was, it didn't last long, as the three of us who lived there soon got bored with writing each conversation down. The Argos 'Bible' was an obligatory accessory in the 90s home, and we would often sit down of an evening, flicking through the pages, dreaming of things to buy for the house. There seemed to be an explosion of new technology at the time - the new MP3 player, Sony Discman, portable CD player, mobile phones, the first widescreen televisions and most importantly, affordable desk top PC's.
After a lot of umming and ahing, we finally decided to drive down to Argos and purchase a shiny new computer. This was a task easier said than done. The box was huge and weighed a tonne. In fact, it was so big, we decided to open the contents, so it would fit neatly inside our burgundy Ford escort. Immediately I began to regret my purchase, as I decanted a monitor, CPU, Keyboard and more software than I had ever seen, packaged individually on Compact Disc after bloody Compact Disc. Then there were leads, so many wires, I just couldn't imagine how we would ever connect them all. Bemused, we just shut the boot and drove home, sitting quietly, wondering what on earth we had got ourselves into.
Dragging the heavy contents up three flights of stairs to the study, suitably knackered, sweating profusely, angry and tired, which is never a good start, I sat there, head in my hands, not knowing where to begin. Temper at boiling point, as usual I left Darrell to do the donkey work, I was never any good at technology, it just wasn't part of my psyche and I certainly didn't have the patience; I was more of a paper and pen kind of man, as I probably still am today. With the carpet covered in hardware, software, peripherals, computer manuals and even a plastic cover for the PC, just like the one you used to put on a budgie cage at night, I left the room. We had already had two arguments getting to this point and I didn't want any more!
It must have been the early hours of the following morning when Darrell finally finished putting everything together. It looked presentable enough against the back wall, although the myriad of unseemly wires and extension cables trailing across the floor, were already beginning to irritate my innate sense of order. That was just the beginning of my hatred for this new piece of modern technology, before it was even switched on. The 'dial up' connection, rather like the screeching Spectrum cassette tape loading in 1983, was so disturbing and frustrating in nature, I had to leave the room; there was no turning down the volume; it was just one long squawk fest, from sunrise to sunset!
The internet in 1998 was very different; less of a learning tool, it was more directed towards recreation and risqué material. Loading a picture could take minutes, not milliseconds as it does today. There was no joy sat in front of a screen for hours on end, doing nothing productive. The waiting, queuing, restarting, reloading, dropping of connection, when someone was using the phone and constant annoyance at not being able to finish a task, was just too much to cope with. Within a few short days, I had had enough, phoning Argos demanding a refund. Unsurprisingly, they weren't having any of it, advising me to follow due process and ring the helpline in the literature provided.
By now my mood had turned distinctly sour; indignant, irate with rage, I packed up everything in the oversized box provided and told Darrell to drive me to Argos, where I unloaded the monstrosity in the middle of the shop, refusing to leave until I was reimbursed in full. After an hour of tense exchanges, they finally relented, and we were refunded on the spot. I vowed never to get a computer again, believing they were useless, purposeless and unusable.
This tentative foray into the coincidental world of the future was a step too far, and one I wouldn't repeat for many years, until advancements in technology finally allowed this fully fledged technophobe, the opportunity to embrace destiny and become the amateur computer expert I am contemporarily. Looking back, I should have persevered, but life in 1998 was very different and times didn't reflect my desire to get things done quickly. Computers back then were not for the faint-hearted, they were an uneven stepping stone towards the advancements we enjoy in 2021; they were the ancestors of smartphones and tablets and the forerunner of innovation, development and creativity. As grandparents of the freedoms we enjoy today; the humble Argos computer was the commencement of my journey, as I endeavoured to navigate a World I didn't recognise. This was the first chapter in the life of a blogger, who finally fell in love with the progressive, cutting edge, pioneering present day. This was the end of innocence and the beginning of accomplishment!
The World was moving on, the internet was just beginning to bloom and most people I knew had a computer, not something I was particularly interested in, it has to be said. I had heard so many horror stories and after being given a ZX Spectrum 48k for Christmas in the early 1980s, I always said I would 'never go there again.' The screeching of the tape recorder for hours on end, as Daley Thompsons Decathlon loaded, was just too much to bear. I wasn't ready then, and I wasn't sure I was ready now, for that leap into the dark and the purchase of a new desk top computer. Nevertheless, it was time to embrace the new World and bow to modernity, after all this was the way of the future.
In the corner of the office sat a large Argos Catalogue, placed on top of the even larger telephone directory and a bigger still yellow pages. Perched between them all, was a notepad, where each of us would write down the telephone calls we made; all very forward thinking and organised; the reality was, it didn't last long, as the three of us who lived there soon got bored with writing each conversation down. The Argos 'Bible' was an obligatory accessory in the 90s home, and we would often sit down of an evening, flicking through the pages, dreaming of things to buy for the house. There seemed to be an explosion of new technology at the time - the new MP3 player, Sony Discman, portable CD player, mobile phones, the first widescreen televisions and most importantly, affordable desk top PC's.
After a lot of umming and ahing, we finally decided to drive down to Argos and purchase a shiny new computer. This was a task easier said than done. The box was huge and weighed a tonne. In fact, it was so big, we decided to open the contents, so it would fit neatly inside our burgundy Ford escort. Immediately I began to regret my purchase, as I decanted a monitor, CPU, Keyboard and more software than I had ever seen, packaged individually on Compact Disc after bloody Compact Disc. Then there were leads, so many wires, I just couldn't imagine how we would ever connect them all. Bemused, we just shut the boot and drove home, sitting quietly, wondering what on earth we had got ourselves into.
Dragging the heavy contents up three flights of stairs to the study, suitably knackered, sweating profusely, angry and tired, which is never a good start, I sat there, head in my hands, not knowing where to begin. Temper at boiling point, as usual I left Darrell to do the donkey work, I was never any good at technology, it just wasn't part of my psyche and I certainly didn't have the patience; I was more of a paper and pen kind of man, as I probably still am today. With the carpet covered in hardware, software, peripherals, computer manuals and even a plastic cover for the PC, just like the one you used to put on a budgie cage at night, I left the room. We had already had two arguments getting to this point and I didn't want any more!
It must have been the early hours of the following morning when Darrell finally finished putting everything together. It looked presentable enough against the back wall, although the myriad of unseemly wires and extension cables trailing across the floor, were already beginning to irritate my innate sense of order. That was just the beginning of my hatred for this new piece of modern technology, before it was even switched on. The 'dial up' connection, rather like the screeching Spectrum cassette tape loading in 1983, was so disturbing and frustrating in nature, I had to leave the room; there was no turning down the volume; it was just one long squawk fest, from sunrise to sunset!
The internet in 1998 was very different; less of a learning tool, it was more directed towards recreation and risqué material. Loading a picture could take minutes, not milliseconds as it does today. There was no joy sat in front of a screen for hours on end, doing nothing productive. The waiting, queuing, restarting, reloading, dropping of connection, when someone was using the phone and constant annoyance at not being able to finish a task, was just too much to cope with. Within a few short days, I had had enough, phoning Argos demanding a refund. Unsurprisingly, they weren't having any of it, advising me to follow due process and ring the helpline in the literature provided.
By now my mood had turned distinctly sour; indignant, irate with rage, I packed up everything in the oversized box provided and told Darrell to drive me to Argos, where I unloaded the monstrosity in the middle of the shop, refusing to leave until I was reimbursed in full. After an hour of tense exchanges, they finally relented, and we were refunded on the spot. I vowed never to get a computer again, believing they were useless, purposeless and unusable.
This tentative foray into the coincidental world of the future was a step too far, and one I wouldn't repeat for many years, until advancements in technology finally allowed this fully fledged technophobe, the opportunity to embrace destiny and become the amateur computer expert I am contemporarily. Looking back, I should have persevered, but life in 1998 was very different and times didn't reflect my desire to get things done quickly. Computers back then were not for the faint-hearted, they were an uneven stepping stone towards the advancements we enjoy in 2021; they were the ancestors of smartphones and tablets and the forerunner of innovation, development and creativity. As grandparents of the freedoms we enjoy today; the humble Argos computer was the commencement of my journey, as I endeavoured to navigate a World I didn't recognise. This was the first chapter in the life of a blogger, who finally fell in love with the progressive, cutting edge, pioneering present day. This was the end of innocence and the beginning of accomplishment!
