19January1995

London: 19 January 1995
My dear folks,

I cannot possibly go to bed this evening without bringing you up to date on the latest developments in our lives, such as they are. First and foremost, this letter is coming to you, not courtesy of tried and trusted Compaq Laptop black and white, but of Viglen (17") Desktop Glorious Colour. And truly you never saw such a handsome beast. I fetched him from the manufacturer first thing this morning and (inevitably) spent the rest of the day installing him (with a little assistance from technical support lines). It's like trying to programme a space-ship for flight. But I shall not try your patience with fine detail. Suffice it to say that it's (nearly) all systems go and that I'm as pleased as Punch.

I think that even Jones, who regards computers in the same light as child molesters, was mildly impressed when I eventually plugged the speakers in the right hole and got ENCARTA to work. It's an electronic encyclopaedia that takes you to any country, language, composer, artist, politician (you name it/him/her), shows you the relevant pictures, maps etc, explains what it's about and plays you the national anthem (or anything else you choose to hear.) Mind-boggling isn't in it. It's sufficiently up to date to have both South African national anthems, the new flag and a rousing little speech from President Mandela. You can point to a globe of the earth, get it to spin in whichever direction and then zoom in on the country you want. It will give you maps, cities, history, geography and much else in the twinkling of an eye. As I said in a recent missive, paper encyclopaedias are history.

I was doubly thrilled when I managed to transfer my Internet and other programmes from the laptop to the new computer (with a little more assistance from my friends). At which point, let me admit that not all my recent electronic communications have gone without a hitch. My attempt to tack my last family letter on to my email was not entirely successful. I had responses from Penny Benson in Canada and Lloyd Jones in Jhb saying that instead of a letter, they'd received a load of garble. Tricia Lund got a clever computer friend to decipher hers. But it has dawned upon me that one can't simply post anything down the line and expect it to look like a letter when it arrives. There's a little question of compatibility that still requires work. That's all right. I'm sure the theory of relativity didn't come to Einstein the first formula he tried.

Let me get off computers for a while. If you are anything like Jones, the mere mention of the machines is sufficient unto the day. You may be aware that I am trying for a position in BBC World Service Arab TV (depending on the level of garble in my last missive). I went for an interview earlier this week at which (I modestly believe) I managed to impress the head of the service with my knowledge of the Arab world. I was throwing foreign ministers' names and foreign policies around like confetti. However (since I didn't get the job brief until five minutes before the interview) I was rather shaky on emergency studio procedure. I still wait to hear the outcome. On the positive side, the appointment would bring a promotion and some useful extra bucks (always welcome); on the other hand, I'd have to learn Arabic (a real brainbuster of a language). Inshallah!

I must have slept awkwardly two nights ago for I awoke on Tuesday morning with a muscle in my neck trying to pull my head around 180 degrees and had a most miserable day at work. Cycling home was a proper pain too, especially as the elements went totally overboard, gusting and spraying like elephant having an enema. It was all I could do to stay on my bike. The condition and the weather eased on Wednesday and totally vanished today (with the arrival of the computer; can there be a coincidence?). Jones said she was having heart palpitations today. What a pair of old farts we're in danger of becoming.

Jones has been packing for Portugal. She's off in the morning. She has bought a duvet on the sale which she will take down with her. She confided in me that she was a little nervous of the cold weather she might encounter down there. She'll have to wrap up warm. She never was a girl for cold climes. Mind you, one of our tenants, John, phoned the other day (to say the phone bill had not been paid and the line had been cut as a result - our maid Maria thought it because there was no money left in our account etc etc) and told us that it was hot enough to sunbathe. (Much phoning of bankers and agents today - it never ends.) The builders are making steady progress with Jones's new abode. And I hope to fly down myself for a few days before the end of the month if I can wangle a few swaps at work.

The pair of us have just had a bath and are now preparing for supper. A day off is such a luxury as I can barely describe. The study is a heap of empty (computer) cardboard boxes and a mass of files. It's impossible to move without falling over wires and books and papers and boxes. I have assured Jones that all will be spick-and-span shortly. We are getting there. It's merely a question of time and priorities.

Our thoughts remain with Uncle Desmond. Thank you Trish (for you long email letter) and Mum for your fax - bringing us up to date. All strength to him these next few days.