How to find out if I have posted.

Sylvia found JaneLaverick.com and wanted to know how she would find out when I had posted something, other than looking every few days.

So I asked the webmaster, otherwise known as the S&H (Son and Heir to all my debts) who very brilliantly sent me a link to somewhere to arrange such a thing which I, surpassingly brilliantly, deleted.

You see there are readers, and you may very well be one of them, who believe that just because I am on Tinternet I must be quite bright.  Dear, you could probably train a monkey to do it for peanuts.  Have you seen some of the sites that are out there?  It’s a worry.  Sometimes I feel alarmed that I may be trivialising the written word, language of Shakespeare (him what spoke fluent Brummy, Babs, and couldn’t spell his own name) etc, and then I look around from inside Tinternet here and I think I might be raising the tone slightly after all.

But technically, well.  If we hadn’t scraped and skimped to send the S&H on the five year holiday that is UNI to study computers and that, he would still have been able to do it and we wouldn’t have been so skint.  No, rewind.  If………. I hadn’t gone back to the college on Saturday mornings to teach the exam crammer class, leaving the six month old baby in the charge of his father (the OH) who was watching the BBC Saturday morning show that told you how to plug the computer keyboard into the back of the telly and write a programme that you could save on to your tape recorder.  If you got it right the machine would type HELLO on the screen and when your wife came home you could tell her that next week you would learn how to say HELLO back.  The future is here.  And no one noticed that the baby was watching until four weeks later.  He waited, sitting patiently on is father’s knee until said father had typed in a whole screenful of words, one letter at a time, with his tongue hanging out, and then the barely weaned infant leaned forward, pressed one key that made it all disappear and rolled away laughing because this was before he had learned how to walk.

And now he does it for a living and will sort out something that will let you know when i hav dun sum wurds, just as soon as I stop deleting the emails.

If, like Sylvia you have a long felt want and do not wish to use it as a draught excluder, please feel free to say so.

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This is the place where wings take dream – as a president we didn’t think was all that good at the time*, once remarked.  History is an education, isn’t it?

*Mr Bush, Jnr.