My telly died. I ordered a new one on Wednesday and whaddayah know? It arrived this morning.
I am jinxed on the whole TV front. I have lost count of the TV's I've owned since my first black and white portable which my folks presented me with for my 18th birthday. That was fairly unusual at that time as most families sat around the one TV and watched whatever was on one of three dismal channels. Now, I have umpteen dismal channels, I-Player (or Play it Again Sam, as I labelled it) and goodness knows all what such as DVD and video. Still not a lot to watch.
But so many people live in households with more than one TV, even I with my pretentions to soft focus greenness feel the need for a portable TV and freeview box in my bedroom - not that I ever watch it, but habits die hard. However, I am unlikely ever to have a screen embedded in the bathroom wall in order to lie in ass-milked splendour while peering through the steam at Corrie.
Mother tells the story of their first TV. Grandfather, who was the original Inspector Gadget in many ways, decided to order the parts and assembled his own TV set in time for the Coronation of the Windsor Woman. According to mother, all the neighbours crowded in around this tiny screen to see the historic event. No doubt grandmother was proudly entertaining them all throughout the day. It obviously had a lasting impression!
As my previous two TV's have obligingly (from TV manufacturers viewpoint) keeled over soon after the guarantee ran out, I now have a five year warranty. At least that way, I get five years out of the goggle box instead of one or two.
Because it is not a colossal screen, I reckoned I could assemble the mount myself then wire it into the various boxes that lurk under my TV stand. I did this, for once, following the instructions and was quite pleased with myself when I noticed a bit left over.
Damn!
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