S MAGAZINE ★ 18 AUGUST 2019 75
Mindy Hammond
Every week in S Magazine
That night, thunderstorms hit the whole of
the UK, and as I snoozed in my bed by the
Thames, I had a rude awakening. Izzy was
texting me: “Mama... thunder and lightning.”
I tried to calm her, asking her to count between
the flash and the thunder; convinced the result
would confirm the storm was several miles
away... Bad idea. It was overhead. The dogs
were going crazy and Izzy was frightened the
house might be struck.
“Shall I call Grandy and Poppa?” I asked her.
“No, don’t worry, they’ll be asleep. It’ll be
fine.” It was after 1am. Then the house lights
began flickering and Izzy changed her mind.
I felt so guilty calling but relieved when Poppa
answered after just a few rings. I explained the
situation and within minutes Poppa had
jumped in the car. He stayed with Iz for over an
hour and by the time he left, the storm had
moved on. Naturally, Willow slept through the
whole drama.
Next day, my laptop was declared very
poorly but, if I was lucky, might be ready for
collection before we set off on holiday. Willow’s
temperature had soared by the time I returned
home, the accountant was jumping up and
down for paperwork to be signed, then
catastrophe struck – the ring main in the
sitting room stopped working – along
with the TV.
I escaped to the stables, only to
find Max lying down. (He never
lies down.) I spent over an hour
beside him in the shavings,
concerned he was seriously
ill. But after watching him
yawn several times,
realised his age and the
heat had been the cause.
I cradled his head in my
arms and gently stroked
him as he dozed. It was
the most relaxing and
happiest hour of
my week and a very
special moment –
until my phone rang...
Two sleeps till
France – I think I might
make it – just.Hmm... Willow hates to admit to tonsillitis
these days, and I reached for the thermometer,
wrestling her to poke the end in her ear. Sure
enough, it read 39 degrees. Then I peered in
her throat. “Right, antibiotics, paracetamols
and bed,” I told her, “You need to get well
before we go away.”
I marched her upstairs, leaving my laptop
open and my phone resting on the side of the
keyboard. When I returned to my post the laptop
lid was closed and a grinning Ketchup was
sitting on top of it. I gave her a cuddle and put
her on the floor, but when I flipped the laptop
open the screen was black – nothing worked.
Then I saw it, a crack in the screen. It had
closed on my phone and was completely
useless. Quickly, I contacted Apple and booked
an appointment to get it fixed. I had to go into
London for meetings anyway so could pop in
and sort it. A couple of days later, I reluctantly
set off, leaving Izzy to keep an eye on her little
sister, with a promise to keep in touch and
contact the grandparents, who live nearby, in
case of emergency.SUSAN HELLARD C/O ARENATechnology always fails when you need it most. This week Mindy grapples
with a broken laptop, flickering lights and a recalcitrant TV Illustration by Susan Hellard
A
s we all know, I’m no technology
whizz. After all, computers simply
weren’t a thing when I was at school,
and when I studied for O levels we
were still being taught domestic
science. Despite our potential career choices
being listed as teacher, accountant or secretary,
we weren’t even instructed in typing skills.
That said, I remained bottom of the
cookery class; perhaps this was the fault of
the teacher, who entertained us in one lesson
by burning off her fringe and eyebrows while
lighting the gas. My rock cakes were seriously
rocky, although I finally achieved an almost-
edible Victoria sponge. Had we cooked on Agas
I’m sure I would have excelled.
My cooking skills may have improved, but my
poor old brain remains in a fuddle with new
technology, even though I’m the first port of
call to track down historic emails or sort
Richard’s computer issues. I may have started
using very sophisticated editing programs, but
I don’t really understand how the magic works- it’s probably all witchcraft.
Both Happy the laptop and his pal Ivor the
iPad donned their cases, ready for their
holiday. But before departure, every
email had to be answered, every
piece of paper filed and every bill
paid. I was stockpiling animal
feed and cleaning the house till
it shone – just to make it nice
for our lovely housesitter.
But there’s always a problem
or two to be solved and this
year I really copped for the lot.
It all started when I donated
a spare hour to paying a few
invoices by online banking
just to get ahead of the
game. I was happily tapping
away at the kitchen island
when Willow appeared,
dressed in a hoodie and
pyjamas and looking very pale.
“I feel awful” she moaned, and
slumped on to the window seat.
“Uh, oh... tonsils?”
“No... it isn’t tonsillitis. It feels
like flu.” ●S