From the ashes doing a Lazarus.

No one weeps much for someone who moves houses but I could have done with a bit of a weep from someone… at times. This will be my last move but  before I’ll let you in on my tale of woes, it in no way infers things were all that bad. I am just totally exhausted but at the same exhilarated when just an hour ago the Holy saint of Telstra came finally, oh so finally; and repaired my umbilical cord to the world by re-connecting me to the internet. But while my tale in no way reflects a dead Lazarus rising from the ashes I never thought that going without my Helvi would be so hard in this move of houses. All the packing and unpacking, and where to put everything. The photos that kept turning up. Especially this photo of my lovely daughter Susanna (1968- 2012).

“Pope Leo the Great referred to this passage when he discussed the two natures of Jesus: “In His humanity Jesus wept for Lazarus; in His divinity he raised him from the dead.” The sorrow, sympathy, and compassion Jesus felt for all mankind. The rage he felt against the tyranny of death over mankind.”

Feeling bad about not responding to some of your lovely blogs and pieces. Of course, much of it could have been done on my iPhone but with limited data and the lack of dexterity of both sight and fingers, it wasn’t an option for this almost octogenarian.

It has all been done now and while still waiting for council rubbish bins, all is now working. What I thought was rather telling of this modern internet world is that it is now impossible to talk to the internet providers. They blithely through endless repetitive pre-recorded messages, tell you to push this button and after that another button to get to the right section applicable to the specific problem, and then tell you because of the corona virus they can’t help you on-line and suggest that all problems can be dealt with on-line. But…I felt like screaming, “I am not on-line.”  The latest to totally make you go around the bend is to send verification codes. The codes appear just for a split second and by the time you retrieve the code, time has run out. It drove me to such a rage I strangled two tea-towels to death.

I know, the Corona is serious but I have a sneaky suspicion that it is also a convenient way of hiding inefficiency. I am not so sure of this Holy Telstra man!

Here is a picture of my new place.

A week in Byron Bay.

 

 

If this blog seems a bit quiet, it is because we are not home. The blogging on the move isn’t the strongest part of my writing oeuvre. Not that the words disappear or fade, but the technical aspect of using a computer away from the familiarity of our upstairs little office is challenging. Although, I admit freely that anything away from home is now becoming a challenge. This is why we decided to wrench ourselves to the outside, and take a break up North at Byron Bay. You know how it is; sun and surf still appeals.

Did you know that two days ago my Apple iPhone became locked for no reason? The internet provided by TPG had dropped out. Both my computer and Helvi’s just did not walk. Nothing, rien, nichts or niks would make it work. It’s funny how a break in our IT world can be so unsettling. And I thought we were pretty aloof on the possibility of being hooked on computers.

A good friend suggested I take my locked Apple iPhone to a Telstra shop. Our account is with Telstra which are the biggest telephony company in Australia. The service provider of the internet however is TPG, a much smaller company. They seem to have a permanent advertisement on the TV which drives me mad but not enough to change providers.

Telstra shops are always busy and you can tell that it are the lost and the forlorn oldies that have the most trouble with  modern electronic communication gadgetry. They are doomed to forever catch up with the increasingly more intricate cell-phone world. It is all so baffling, but you can tell by their worried puckered up faces they are all at their wits end. I too joined them which gives comfort. And after I gave my name, which a man wearing a Telsra name tag tapped into a tablet, was asked to take a seat and wait for my turn.  The shop was now full of Mobile/Cell-Phone traumatized elderly people holding up their gadgets like a S.O.S.

When my name was called a young girl approached and asked about my problem with the locked iPhone. She suggested it could well be due because of the age of the phone (rather than my age). ‘Why not update and buy a new one,’ she suggested?  New iPhone made by Apple costs hundreds. I baulked at spending so much on a telephone, especially when they appear to get ‘locked’, and apparently at their own volution! I noticed a new Telstra phone for $99.- with all the colourful buttons and apps much the same as an Apple iPhone. After I bought it she tapped in all my details and as I kept the same number I was pleased to have this problem of my old locked phone solved at minimum costs.

When I came back and tried my new phone it wasn’t easy to get used to the change. The buttons were all different and the sheer number of choices that one had to make to install the workability of it all was dauntingly depressing. Just to install the phone numbers of family and friend’s in the new phone had me close to calling the ambulance, while Helvi threatened to call the police. This new phone wanted me to accept ‘good morning’ reminders of, ‘time to go to work’, all sorts of memories and reminders and birthdays. It was just so endless and pointless.  Who is the sadist thinking this all up?

It all made me wish to go back to try and unlock my old trusted iPhone.  The message of contacting Apple was still on the old Apple screen and even had a phone number which I rang. Much to my relief, but after going though another round of pressing this number and that number on my landline-phone, I got to talk to a real person. Not only real, but with an Aussie accent. To ascertain my identity I was asked secret questions for which answers were apparently given some years ago when I set up the iPhone. Fortunately, two of the secret bits of information I gave were correct. He guided me to set-up a new password, and bingo, my Apple iPhone did a Lazarus and came back to life. Of course, even though the iPhone went back to life, the phone account had been switched over to the new phone.

The upshot of it all is that I use the new Telstra phone as a normal phone ( if there is still such a thing as a ‘Normal’ phone) and the old iPhone for internet and downloading e-mails.

It’s not easy, and that’s why we are going to Byron Bay to soak up some warm sun and drink cold beer.