Helen phoned last night from her friend’s house in
I’ve embarked on round 98 of the Mourning Shawl border. It should be finished and the centre started – including the first set of lace initials – before we go back to Strathardle. Progress, indeed.
I’m going to love it, I can see that, but yesterday was tough. It comes with the most exiguous documentation you ever saw in your life – I’ve had toasters with fuller instructions. They obviously think you have an iPod or an iPhone and can jump right in. I don’t, and can’t.
I began by choosing “Mail” from the opening screen. I know about mail. The password set up by James to go with my BT Hub is one of those complicated ones with digits and letters and I must have done it wrong. I wasn’t offered a second chance. There I was with various mail options, all leading nowhere, and no way that I could see to get back to the beginning and start again.
I tried approaching the problem from various directions, to no avail. Eventually I persuaded my husband – who remains rather dubious – to let me use his. That went through. Apple was totally unconcerned by my sudden change of name and sex. I got the apps.
I think I may have to buy "iPad for Dummies" (on paper). How to clean the screen, to begin with. It's already looking smeary from all this touching.