No time for jolly New Year hangovers for this little black duck. Since arriving home from a heady night of frolics and celebration over in Melton, I have been wrestling with the final bits of giving life to the Unsung Heroes Pozible campaign. 

Ah me! Isn’t learning fun!?! I now realise that I don’t have the correct format video thingy to upload the UHAH video thingy so I’ve spent many a minute – in the hundreds – working this out and then trying to fix it – without success to date, so all is not quite perfect as yet. 

I pressed go and the Project is now ‘live’ and I watch forlornly as after at least two hours we haven’t attracted a visitor let alone a bean of the donatory kind. Oh woe is me!

All this high drama at the keyboard, possibly on a day such as today, has lead me to reminiscing about the days when all I needed to understand about technology was how to operate a Casio cash register and cope with the horror of the ‘PLU’ – that’s Price Lookup Number in very early computer parlance I suspect. As long as the solenoid thing for the glasshouse mist spray system was doing its bit and I’d been generous but judicious with the blood and bone distribution my life would continue to run OK (I was a nurseryman by trade before I was blinded by the beauty of the  screen and the keyboard).

I used to work stuff out with a pencil, use my ears of all things to tune my guitars, I could change tele channels by walking over to the beast and turning a knob that did the job with a reassuring, and very specifically television knob sounding ‘click’, and I didn’t have chronic neck and shoulder pain from propping before the great god PC.

I have one day left before I return to work and I’ve only managed to read one Christmas presso book! I haven’t gone on a bike ride. I haven’t even walked Alfred the Great (the wonder dog) much further than round the block. I haven’t done my summer season wardrobe swap (put away excessive number of long sleeve t-shirts  in an array of rainbow colours to replace them with the excessive number of short sleeved t-shirts in an array of rainbow colours I keep in wicker baskets up on an unreachable shelf). I  haven’t done my annual office tidy up so I can approach my great god PC without risk of breaking my ankle, and yet I have unerringly found my way to said PC every day as though possessed.

In short, I’m every so slightly behind at the outset, and all because I’ve been perched at my ‘time saving device’  trying to chirrup like a blue bird, make ‘friends’ and embarrass myself by encroaching on acquaintances in a snotty cyber sort of way.

Still, glitches and whines aside, it’s 2012. All excitement and potential. We’re off to perform in Tasmania at the end of the week. Alfred has recovered from the multiple simulataneous fits of the vapours he suffered due to the devotion of some to contraband fireworks. All is pretty good with the world really.

Happy New Year

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