I'm suppose to look puzzled, not angry!

About Me

My photo
I have a book to publish. Editors love it, marketing departments say 'up the media profile'. So here I am 'upping it' and writing about the book, food, and life in general.

Wednesday, 25 April 2012

Night-T9 - Goodbye to Predictive Text

Farewell, my lovely
Today I will reluctantly embrace the world of the i-phone.  Yes, Ged is upgrading to the #4 so I get his cast-off, the i phone 3g.

But I will so miss the strange and entertaining world of predictive text!  I'm told that the text my old 'phone predicts is not related to the area I live in or its demographics.  So why is it that whenever I try to write 'did'  my 'phone always prefers to choose the word 'eid'?  Does this happen to people who don't live in a predominantly Muslim area? And anyway, the Muslims only celebrate the feast of Eid twice a year. Surely the word 'did' has to be used by them more often than 'eid'?

Then there was the incident with the washing machine repair man.  My washer was playing up big time; continuing to wash ad infinitum unless I manually switched it off. The mendy-man had been out to it five times already and I felt that he was beginning to think I was inventing a problem to garner his attention.  Whenever I booked a service call he would come round, twiddle a bit, take a bit off, put a bit on then do a test wash and declare that all was fine and dandy. I would confidently load up after he left and flick on the boil wash before I went to bed.  Lo and behold, when I came down to make coffee in the morning the bloody thing would still be wheezing away on its boil wash with my poor tortured whites beating against the door, screaming to be let out.

The sixth service call came and went and I still had a dodgy washer.  I told Ged  we would have to buy a new one because there was no way the man would believe me if I told him the machine was still not working. Ged suggested I make a time-lapse film of my never-ending wash cycle.  Which I did.  Then I sent a message to the mendy-man telling him I had made a film for him over the weekend and could he possibly pop round to see it? No predictive text misunderstandings there but then Ged pointed out that he may think I had been making a film of myself rather than the washing machine.  Or maybe a film of me and the washer together (which reminds me of a story Margi Clarke once told me when she interviewed me for The Good Sex Guide many years ago.  She had mentioned having a very special relationship with the spin cycle of her washing machine).

The repair man sent a text to say he would be round the next day between 2 and 4pm.  I replied by texting that if I was not in when he arrived I would only 'be at the pimp on the corner' and he should call me.  I'd typed in 'shop' not bloody 'pimp'!

As it happened, a different engineer arrived.  And fixed the machine.  Which meant it definitely looked like I fancied the first one because I never called back again.  Well, not yet.

No comments:

Post a comment