Having spent Saturday tootling about Belfast doing the shopping, doing the laundry, doing more shopping, looking in on family, sharing some scrumpy with my favourite Welshman, I was looking forward to some quality time with our tv. There was that rugby match I had recorded and hours of other programs I will probably never watch.
So which dark force decided to banjax the remote? I know there are buttons you can push on the Virgin Media cable tv thingumy, but the whole point of modern tv viewing is to wield a remote as if it is your light sabre or phaser gun, zapping the crappy stuff and looking for rare glimpses of something worth watching.
We have switched over to digital tv – it is only when you are forced to watch lower quality pictures without the option to record anything that you realise why you are paying a fortune so that you can be a couch potato.
Now my choice is either to program one of those all singing remotes that connect with any tv, or jump through Virgin Media’s customer service hoops. If you don’t get through to someone who can actually help you in a reasonable time – don’t worry nobody does.
How will I avoid finding out that the All Blacks suffered a surprising defeat at the hands of the Bokkers until I get my remote fixed? Luckily very few people here in Belfast give a toss about southern hemisphere rugby.