Key Notes

The Twelfth of September Two Thousand and Eleven. Monday.

Back at work after two weeks on holiday. Nice to have a proper keyboard again after writing on the touchscreen of my phone which is a traumatic experience at the best of times but which recently has become a trial as the screen doesn’t function at temperatures below – oh, I don’t know – 20 degrees Celsius. Consequently, I have to warm it up under my arm to get it working, recalling with nostalgic irritation those Polaroid photographs you had to bury in your armpit for 30 seconds to get them to develop.

And also back on a proper keyboard at home. All my old friends waiting there to greet me: Mr Dirty-Washing and Mrs Filthy-Potts. The cupboard brothers, M.T. and Bear. Not forgetting my Star Trek fridge DeFrost Kelley (‘Dammit, Jim, I’m a refrigerator not a notice board!’) Good to see them all.

Can you believe I learned to type at sixth form college? That's how ancient I am. During General Studies they had typing lessons in a room full of big ol' secretarial typewriters. I can still remember exercising my little fingers on the q and p buttons to this very day.

I once convinced a woman who now presents a breakfast show on commercial radio that the inventor of the typewriter was a Pole by the name of 'Qwerty Uiop' and that's why every keyboard bears his name on the top line of letters.

Also, I had my computer for more than a year before I realised it was on a US setting and that's why the @ and the " keys had been reversed. I've got it adjusted for UK use now, but for all that time it never occurred to me to try and do anything about it. I

Another quick one tonight, gang. We'll get up to full speed soon enough.

More soonliest.