Prepare to judge me because I’m being ridiculous.
Every couple of years my place of work provides us with new computers. Nothing knicker-dropping-fancy, but good enough to educate a nation and conduct mildly exciting research.
By the end of 2019 (remember? The good ol’ days) I was blessed with a new laptop. The keys were shiny and the design stealthy and sophisticated. The lapse of time between hitting the start button and actually working on the thing was pretty much the same as getting from zero to 60km per hour in a Ferrari.
But my PC was standing on my desk with the dignity of an old Toyota and I could not be persuaded to part with it. The lapse of time between start up and workability is the same as getting from zero to 60km per hour in slippers.
A month or so into lockdown I had only my laptop at home. Certain functionalities on online teaching platforms were not as readily available and the keypad just felt uncomfortable. So I headed off to campus and persuaded the security guards to let me to my office. I completed an asset relocation mission and took my PC home.
But today, mid-lecture, the ol’ chap left me. No glamorous poof in a cloud of smoke. Just a soft, final exhale.
I know what the almighty IT people will say: get a new one. But it will never be the same. A new PC wasn’t here to carry my blubbering, grieving writing after my mother died. It would probably not purr along in a soft, comforting hum when I work 14 hour days.
I’m grieving a computer. Time for wine…