What is it about modern life that has to make everything so complex?
This week I have finally got round to replacing both my camera and computer chair. The previous camera lasted nearly 8 years but recently succumbed to a large crack and is now held together by sticky tape. The chair I am presently sitting on suffers eruptions of foam from its stuffing, messing the floor as well as causing discomfort to my posterior from the gaping hole in the seat.
The trouble is that mastering the art of using any electronic device requires a great deal of patience and training. The new camera came with two instruction manuals, a CD rom and a link to two websites. It's little wonder that I never fully utilised all the functions on my last camera. Now I'm retired, however, I thought that, without work to interrupt, learning all the various functions would be a breeze.
Not so, if I want to use it to its optimum, there's at least another two or three afternoons of hard graft to be put in to properly understand its capabilities and then presumably weeks of practice.
As for the chair. I only got as far as reading the first paragraph of its instructions which pointed out that a drill is required to properly piece it together. A job for the engineer here I thought, calling for Mister E. He seemed quite animated at the thought of a construction job but once he'd spread the bits all over the floor, he realised that he couldn't make it without reading the instructions and suggested leaving it until tomorrow.
Now in Caree's Utopia, chairs would all be delivered ready to sit on and cameras really would work by pointing and shooting.