Computers and kids

Day 23

Today I would like to focus on two things - one that frustrates me eternally, and one that delights me continually. Or to put it in today's parlance, there is two fings, right, one what I will diss, and one what I will big up, mos def.

The first (and the bane of my life) is computers. They are supposedly wonderful things that enhance our lives and make things easier, and they certainly would be if they did as they were told. But I am one of those people to whom electronic things object. They work perfectly well for my husband and sons, but as soon as that keyboard senses a hint of oestrogen, the damn things immediately want to play silly buggers with me.

I'm not as bad as my sister was. She could make anything with a plug on it go wrong. I left her for a weekend in my flat to look after my cat once and, when I came back on Sunday night, the kettle wouldn't work, the hoover was broken, the washing machine was at a standstill and she'd fused all the lights. She once bought a brand new stereo system - in the eighties they still were huge with buttons you had to press down - and it only worked if she wedged cut up matchsticks down the sides of the buttons to keep them turned on. Every time she took it back to the shop it worked perfectly, of course. Eventually she gave up and passed it on to me where it worked fine, I noticed, unless she was in the house or even on the phone, when I would find myself wedging matchsticks down it to keep the damn thing going.

So - I am not as bad as that, but there must be a genetic factor, something in our magnetic field perhaps, because computers really don't like me. When I ask my husband why it's doing something it shouldn't or failing to do something it should, his response - naturally enough - is that I've pressed the wrong button, or typed something wrong. And then he'll come in and do exactly what I have just done and it will recognise that 'daddy' is here and do everything right. Very frustrating.

Yesterday, for instance,I was trying to get to my email. That's all. I simply placed the cursor over the word 'mail', and clicked. It went into spasm. "Bad request" it screamed, in big, red letters, then went on to complain "your client has issued a malformed or illegal request"! My husband looked at me with kind, but pitying amusement, and said "only you", which wasn't helpful. Then he pressed the button and reached my email without any problem, so I tried again and it still wouldn't let me do it. Even as I type this there is a red 'ERROR' message at the top of the screen, detailing that my request cannot be processed, which is a bit confusing as I haven't requested anything.

So computers - you don't like me , so I don't like you - consider yourselves dissed.

Teenagers, on the other hand are a wonderful bunch of little aliens. In my own 'yoof', there was this horrible thing called 'The Generation Gap', which had been invented to stop people talking to each other like normal human beings. I'm terribly delighted to see that it doesn't seem to exist any more - at least not to the young people I have met in the last ten years or so.

I've just spent two years on a course aimed at school leavers, to prepare them for Uni. Thanks mostly to the sheer quality of the kids on the course, it has been close to the best two years of my life. They treated me as an equal and a friend, someone to go to for advice, and to give support and encouragement to, someone to share the gossip or a joke with, and to include in their lives. They always treated me as if age made me no different on the human level, and even sometimes as special because of it. They even enjoyed the fact, that having lived longer I had more mad stories to tell, which is just so sweet.

Joe is now 27 and Sam is 19, so we have had all of their friends round for years and they are an equally fine bunch of people. The most defining characteristics are their openness to others, their thoughtfulness and lack of judgement, and their willingness to listen to you (as long as you're not their actual parent, of course). I know I was not like that with my friend's parents when I was young. I was polite to them and dutifully thankful if they had fed me or I had stayed the night, but I wouldn't have sought them out for a conversation. And I certainly wouldn't have been inviting them to foam parties (thanks, but no thanks, Aysha).

I will be eternally grateful to the young people who have already passed through my life, and for those yet to come. Their spontaneity is infectious, their curiosity enriching, and their creativity a delight. (Some of the giggling, shrieking or grunting I can live without, but it's a small price to pay).

So - lovely young people - consider yourselves bigged up.

P.S. Have just tried to publish this post and it won't let me, and have had to ask hubby to step in. It knows, you see.