Sky Blue Thinking?

I posted a wee while back about my disillusionment with Virgin Media and how they didn't seem perturbed when the lovely Marion (thereafter referred on this blog as The Guv'nr) decided to change our cable television, Internet and telephone provider. After a wee bit of research, the Sky TV deals seemed particularly attractive and we changed provider about a month ago.

So far, so good as far as Sky are concerned. We opted initially for the basic tv package but found that despite the dozens of channels available, it would be beneficial to pay £5 extra each month for a much greater choice. Thus, we decided during the week to go for Sky Entertainment.

Now, The Guv'nr and I have not been blessed with much luck recently when it comes to new technology. Our new 'smart' tv wasn't smart enough to pick up our Wi-Fi connection when we purchased it last summer and the smart mobile phone I purchased towards the end of last year - admittedly at the lower end of the scale - wasn't so much smart as clueless (it confirmed to me the old adage of you get what you pay for as being absolutely true)

It was with this in mind that The Guv'nr and I decided, with some trepidation, to upgrade our Sky TV package. We opted for the sadly all too common form of communication to enable this action - we did it on line (remember the days when people actually spoke to each other?) However, our fears were completely unfounded. Seconds after clicking the mouse to confirm we accepted the terms and conditions, Sky Entertainment was on our not so smart television screen. As easy as clicking the mouse.

Which, as Virgin Media may wish to note, is how it should be

Storing up Trouble

When I moved away from Dalkeith last year, most of my worldly goods were packed into black backs and transported to my new abode on a gradual basis. So many things accumulate over the years and it's quite staggering to come across old forgotten items which were bought on a whim with the idea being 'that will come in handy some day'. It seldom does, of course, and it was small wonder the loft of my old house was creaking with the weight of such junk over the years.

Even today, having moved all my stuff out and having sold the house, there are things of mine now ensconced in my daughter's loft. What would be ideal, of course, would be somewhere to store such things - somewhere easily accessible, safe and secure.

I'm sure my beloved elder daughter will be talking to me about my rubbish valuables now taking up space in her loft. The trouble is, I've already forgotten much of what is there - and in my new abode in Leith, I don't have a loft.

What's that? Why don't I just throw these things out? Well, that's a consideration. However, when I do eventually get round to looking at them again, I have a strong suspicion I'll be keeping such and such for sentimental reasons; and, I can't really throw this out because it reminds me of; oh, and I simply can't chuck this....

Which begs the obvious question - if they aren't going to be thrown out, what are they doing in my daughter's loft in the first place?

Answers on a postcard, please. Which I'll store in my daughter's loft...