Robert Carey, aged eight
Part 2 of a short story series about the young Robert Carey - and in case you don't already have it, you can get part 1 as well, A Pest of a Boy.
I think I may finally have backed, protesting all the way, into the 21st century. And Lord, how quaint that will read when my great-grandchildren access this stuff for their family history homework from their space habitat at L5. (Yes, it\’s true – when I was at school there Were No Computers. At all. Except huge things doing accounts at corporations. No computer games either. Honest.)
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I have finally managed to do online grocery shopping. It hasn’t been delivered yet, but… hey… At least I managed to register. This took about five tries and a lot of swearing because as usual the computer went bleuch! Blart! Phooey! Errorerrorerror.
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The young man at Tesco obviously thought I was an idiot because it worked fine when he did it for me over the phone.
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Who knows why this happens? I think all these .com people ought to employ me to test their systems to find out all the ways it can go wrong.