TV or Not TV
That is sort of the question...
The Night the Tele Died
Folks, one week after its’ warranty ran out, the tele died.
We had sound but no picture.
I rounded up the usual suspects, i.e.: Turned it off and on. Unplugged it. Let it sit for a while. Cursed Odin. Plugged it into a different socket etc.
Then, to my amazement…
It Started Working Again!
But, like the moment in a horror movie when the mad scientist drinks a potion then looks down at his hand and notices, with a little alarm, that one of his fingers is now a green, scaly claw, we all knew this wasn’t going to end well.
Even if you cover up the claw with a glove, you know it’s only going to be a matter of time before the inevitable occurs.
So, nobody was surprised the next day when the tele went dark, and this time it stayed that way.
No matter how much I cursed Odin.
The store we bought it from were thrilled to let us know it wasn’t their problem. ‘You’ll have to call the TV company’s hot line,’ they giggled as they hung up.
Long story short, a very nice lady from Samsung informed us they would honour the warranty, and a local TV technician would call us within the next four to six hours.
That’s right, a technician in Gladstone, Central Queensland, was going to call us back, that day… during the Christmas holidays!
We got her to repeat this claim a few more times, just in case we hadn’t heard her properly.
‘Not in this lifetime luv,’ I muttered after hanging up.
Let the record show, nobody was shocked when we did not get a call that day, or even that week, from anyone with the word ‘TV’ in their job description.
A week later we called again and discovered the ‘local’ technician was in fact in Bundaberg (nearly three hours away) and recovering from back surgery. Yeah, that explained his lack of enthusiasm to rocket to our aid.
I asked about a TV repairer in Rockhampton, a mere hour and a half up the recently rain battered highway. Yes, there was one there! Huzzah!
“Goodo!” I said, “I’ll pop the tele into the car and race it up to them!"
The call centre human went very quiet then put us on hold while she toddled off to get her supervisor. The man wearing the Big Hat with Two Orange Buttons very sternly said, ‘No! Do not transport the TV to Rockhampton, it could be damaged in transit!’
I calmly pointed out that unless we were flattened by a truck, or vanished into one of the canyon-esque potholes on the drive north, the TV couldn’t possibly get more damaged.
“Please be patient,” he told us, then hung up.
Mentally I resigned myself to a minimum of six months of TV-less life.
“Panic not Doll,” I said, tossing aside the phone, “because we…”
Have a Projector!
After losing four good men in the search for it, we got eventually got it hooked up to a laptop and began watching YouTube shows/movies on the wall.
“You know Doll,” I said as we gazed upwards at the drive-in movie size images from our lounge, “I could get used to this!”
And for three wonder filled nights we did just that.
Until The Bulb Blew
Do you know how much a replacement bulb is for a modern projector?
$300
With a cry of, “Sweet Tap-Dancing Buddha!” I dropkicked the projector into the bin.
(Note: I didn’t, but debate is still raging here at Chez Bray re: Keeping vs. Tossing the unit).
So, we wound up writing songs. Practicing songs. Reading. Having early nights.
“You know Doll,” I said one laid back eve, “I could get used to this.”
At this point I felt…
The Earth Starting to Tilt Off Its’ Axis
Folks, the Universe has spent years making it extremely clear it doesn’t like me relaxing, thinking, or doing anything without a myriad of interruptions to annoy/distract me, which is no doubt why, the very next day, the TV repairer knocked on our door (interrupting my writing time).
Honestly, I was slightly disappointed to see him.
Anyway, after whipping the plastic back off the tele, he replaced the motherboard and… Voila! No picture!
“Oh well!” I beamed, hustling him back to the front door, “Can’t win ‘em all, see you next month!”
“I have a spare screen in the truck,” he said. As you do…
We carted it in, plugged in the motherboard and, Voila! The tele launched to life.
“Let me get this straight,” I asked, pointing a shaking finger at the unit, “my TV set is basically three parts, a motherboard, a screen and a plastic back?”
“Four if you count the remote control,” he said.
“Do you have any projector bulbs?” I asked.
Nope.
That night we spent the rest of the night sitting in front of the tele like a pair of mute Dodo’s.
Happy Snaps!
A little history lesson, folks, this was my mate Sutty’s car, in front of the waterfall at the Gladstone waterfront just after the maniacs from Rotary used a bosun’s chair and a bucket to build the waterfall, and plant trees and shrubs, on Auckland Hill:
This is it now:
Early morning strolls (‘cause it’s too hot in the arvo):
Big tides and recent rain have revitalised the little creek running onto Agnes Water’s main beach:
Doll pointed out Council has started work on a new bus stop:
The windows were down, but the keys weren’t in it… um, so I was told:
My mate Pete’s latest modification to his ride-on mower:
Stolen from Substack
Kids, this was how we dressed back in the day (some of us still do!):
I have three daughters. I still have that look on my face. I don’t have the t-shirt… yet:
Ain’t this the truth:
And finally, when this is all over, and it will end (soon too, if the rotting little hands are any indication) a lot of Republicans are going be ducking for cover when the light of truth is eventually shone into the dark places (not that we’re expecting anything but soft questions from America’s bootlicking ‘hardcore investigative’ journalists… they’ll just nod as usual while the regime mouthpieces blame everything on Joe Biden):
Anyway…
Thanks for joining us, let’s do it all again next week!
Cheers,
Gb
