Digital switchover

Erin Mae came with a very nice TV, built in to one side of the lounge area.  Unfortunately, with the digital switchover, it became completely incapable of receiving anything. We looked at getting a little digibox to feed it, but there was no way of doing this tidily. Anyway, the boxes we tried lost all their programme information when turned off.

We decided against joining the band who don't have a TV at all, and thought the most cost effective solution was to bring up our TV from home, and get a slightly larger one for there, more suitable for ageing eyes at a distance.

So yesterday the games began. Extracting the old TV from its surround proved a nightmare. My hands are scarred from reaching down behind to find and loosen fixings. Fitting the replacement proved even worse, with the machine screws refusing to locate. And of course all the sockets were in different places, some of them most inconveniently so. By the time of our evening meal I had something of a temporary fix, but it's going to need some more woodwork and the mains lead from home before it is as it should be.

Decisions usually have consequences, it seems, considerably beyond what was expected. Like the Boat Race today, with the (protesting, I presume) swimmer successful beyond his imaginings in causing annoyance and frustration. I somehow can't envisage his cause, whatever it is, being regarded in a more favourable light by those who watched the incident.