LOSING IT

Things started to go wrong at about 5pm last Friday. After spending a pleasant day with my mother at Whiteness, doing things around the house and enjoying some quality time with her, I returned to my flat-cum-studio in Lerwick and, after checking the post and phone messages, and receiving and paying for some new giclees from my graphics supplier, I decided to log on to have a look at my emails, and delete those which were offering me physical impossibilities and replica watches. But my connection was dead. I kept getting a message about a cable having become unplugged, so I checked all the sockets and cables, which all seemed fine. I thought my ethernet cable might have packed in again but, by now, all suppliers had shut down for the weekend (remember this is Shetland).

Things got worse. I knocked over one of the set of mugs which I had received as a present from my parents about twenty years ago, and which, up to now, were still intact, without even a chip on them. The handle broke off, and I had no choice but to bin it.

Later, I decided to have a snack of the beetroot which my sister Mary had grown in the Whiteness garden, and which she had vinegar-pickled in a jar for me. Unfortunately I hadn't noticed that the lid was loose, and I ended up with magenta vinegar over everything on my worktop, my floor and my jeans. I started to lose my presence of mind. I was walking in figure-of-eight shapes around my kitchen and living room, with my eyes bulging and my mouth trying to form words which hadn't yet found substance in my brain. I stared at my magenta hands, doing a fairly decent impression of Lady Macbeth. I sat down. I stood up again. I sat down again. I sat up. I stood down. I scratched my head, causing beetroot streaks in my hair.

I don't know how long it was before I regained enough composure to start cleaning up the mess. By the time I'd finished, about the only reasonable thing to do was go to bed. So I did.

Saturday dawned with an apricot sky, portending a storm. Fishing boats were scurrying for the shelter of Lerwick harbour. I decided the best thing to do about my own particular depression was phone my friend and computer expert Richard Jackson, who came round the next day and, after conducting a few preliminary tests, informed me that my ISP had withdrawn my connection - without prior warning. I should, of course, have foreseen something like this happening, as the company had been in trouble for some time. Richard fixed me up with a temporary dial-up arrangement, which is painfully slow, but it will do for email and checks on my website. So, now I'm looking for another ISP - any ideas, folks? I've more or less decided on one of the BT deals - keep it simple, eh? I'm a simple man, after all.