As my baby is still in hospital Rae arranged a replacement television. It came from a guy in Newport. He’d had it since his 18th birthday but his wife had put her foot down and demanded an upgrade (and if you saw the house it came from, they look as they may be able to afford a new LCD, or two, without too many problems). So, this aged beauty made it’s way in to our home.
A little different to the usual occupant of this spot.
Yes, those silver dials are what you use to move from one channel to another. How quaint. I’d forgotten all about the static burst as you clunked past the empty channel 8 to and from 7 and 9. It even has a little flip down door with a few knobs that allow you to adjust the colour, ‘softness’ and other sundry analogue things.
It’s been 18 years since I’ve had to get off the couch to change a channel. Thankfully in this time I’ve had children so I’m not missing the remote that much. The funniest thing was when we first asked Phee to change the channel. She picked up the set top box remote and pushed the button. Nothing. Perplexed she looked at the new box. “Um, dad…?”
We then had to explain she needed to walk to the telly and turn the knob at the top. The novelty will quickly wear off and I think she will be as happy to see our remote controlled beauty back as much as I will.
I missed reading yesterday and read the first line and thought- oh mine what is wrong with Albert??? What a silly girl to confuse your child and your baby. Of course the baby is the TV.