Saturday, 12 November 2011
This is a photo of the horrid mess of wires next to the computer desk.
It is also a portrait of the inside of my brain when I try to use internet banking.This morning, being rather tired, and attempting to log on while playing air guitar to Radiohead . . .I locked myself out AGAIN.
There must be a whole department devoted to idiotic folk like me, in each internet bank.
O God, it's her again.
I must have wasted a large tree's worth of paper by now in the endless letters which arrive with the new secret code.I faithfully mark the important data down in it's super crack proof code. The name of a fish we had when I was five, the date my friend sprained her foot in 1982, etc etc.And then . . .promptly forget it. Which pretend name in the address book, which address book. Maybe I marked it down in that tiny hand made paper book from Paperchase. Or did I try to memorise it all? Try meditation, perhaps that will draw it out.
Ommm . . .Arnold the rabbit, 1433, Mr Ayton the pervert janitor from junior school. Crap, all wrong.Hit the button 're-register' and do the whole thing. Again.
I remember whan the bank only used to open from 3.00p.m until 5p.m.
Ooh, those were the days. Well probably not. Must try harder.