Pale Riders' Hangout

I’m astounded at the recent PMs and friending’s I’ve received after a recent self-indulgent post about someone who de-friended me.
Sadly as the messages have been arriving, I’ve been doing back to back nightshifts and largely living through a walking coma. However many thanks for your time, heliophile_oxon and byslantedlight, I’ll be messaging you after I finally sleep my way back to normality

An old friend asked on Facebook how our computerised lives had evolved. This was my reply:

In the early eighties I never did typing lessons at school though I *think* they were available. At some time during my very earlier teens, possibly even before, my family managed to get hold of a ‘plinky plonky’ old typewriter which I used every time I wanted to write something ‘official’, amazing myself that I could produce things that looked a bit like those you’d get through the post. Having no idea what I was doing (or that you could buy such things as new ribbons), I think my word count was about three per hour.
Between the months of school and college, a pal asked if I’d enrol with her at a local school who offered evening typing classes. She’d decided on a late stab at a secretarial career but didn’t really want to go on her own. We dutifully enrolled, turning up to several lectures until realising that not only was the venue a cold and miserable place, but that there was a rather fine pub around the corner. Though I discovered the delights of an electric golf ball typewriter, we never completed the course and to my knowledge, the friend never became a secretary.

In the early nineties, my then partner and I got our greedy paws on a used Compaq PC loaded with Windows 2.0. It had both ‘games’ and ‘Paint’ on it so we were amused for many an hour. We were also able to load some rather cheap and nasty shareware such as mind numbingly slow chess and ‘typing for beginners’ via floppy disk. Through work, the partner met a ‘well dodgy geyser’ (an Indian from Slough) who had his hands on the latest MS software. Taking all of our mammoth equipment with us, we drove for two hours to get to his house and politely celebrated Diwali with his considerable family before coming away with a hooky version of Windows 3.1. ‘Typing for beginners’ ran like a demon after that.
In 1999, the partner bought his first laptop loaded with Window 98. This of course, meant an introduction to the internet and for several years after, people complained that our phone line was constantly engaged.

Computers and the internet still held little interest for me but for some reason, I was asked within my position at Royal Mail if I’d be interested in undertaking a project of labelling the new RM2000 sorting frames. This involved knowing how to use a computer and more importantly, how to get that computer to print out labels on an aging dot matrix printer. I soon learned that I had been offered this task as nobody else wanted it, but it got me out of posting letters for a few weeks so I was thrilled. Thrown in as in incentive, I was sent on an ‘Introduction to Windows’ course. The only postwoman amongst a roomful of bored, resentful post office managers who all slapped each other on the back (in a rather 1970’s parody) all moaning about ‘another bloody course’ and ‘grandmothers sucking eggs’, I applied myself on my first course ever and learnt lots. Particularly that getting computers to print things was a shit task that had always been shit and always would be shit (and even eighteen years into the new millennium would STILL be shit).

The partner by this time, had secured a position working away from home leaving me instructions on how to use the laptop and look up things on the internet. I had nothing that I really wanted to ‘look up’ but I still typed in ‘Bodie Love’s Doyle’. I wish I’d known how to download things as some of the stories I found at that time have since disappeared forever and I’d dearly love to have them now.

In 2003 bored one slow night within my new position with the NHS, I looked up ‘whippets’ on the internet. I found some lovely items about the little dogs but couldn’t see any photographs without ‘registering on a forum’. Registering on that first forum was the very start of my journey into the internet. It’s since become my confidant, my guide, my knowledge, my social life, my everything. This of course was still years before the advent of Facebook.

In 2006 I made my first video using Windows Movie Maker. In May this year, the last vid I made used software that 2006 couldn’t have even imagined.
I’m currently doing a digital art project using software which is largely free on the internet. This project won’t be profit making, though I’ve made a few quid selling works which I couldn’t have made without a computer. I have nearly 300 000 published fictional words on the internet. I have friends which I would never have met if I’d never gone ‘online’.

Occasionally throughout life, I’ve bought myself a treat such as a pair of shoes or a nice book. Nowadays, ‘a treat’ is new software. My life is completely run through my computer. Though I miss the simpler days when we ran our lives for ourselves, technology has embraced me and I’m in no hurry to escape its clutches. I wouldn’t be able to write this post otherwise x

Why I never get important stuff done.
Working on a totally unrelated project and then finding a screenshot that just HAS to be played with. THIS is what makes me happy. The subject, the software and the freedom to be able to use it, pure magic.

Just bought a sodding Epson ...

A while since I last updated, but really nothing good to report, in fact things have gone from bad to horrendous.
Nearly three weeks ago, I was anxiously awaiting my husband return from work after having three relative weeks of peace. In all those weeks he didn’t contact me once so I knew his homecoming wouldn’t be exactly joyous, but the atmosphere in the house changed the moment he came through the door.
On his first day home, he hardly spoke to me, although I tried to encourage him to share his feelings, but he was tired from a long journey and I accepted that and left him alone.
The second day, he disappeared in the afternoon, not returning until just after midnight. It was obvious that he had spent at least part of that time in the pub for him to come home so late. Ignoring me, he proceeded to put on loud rock music, so I meekly decided to go to bed as I couldn’t hear the TV programme I had been watching any more.
That’s when things exploded. It was obvious he was spoiling for a fight, and this time his he went after my mobile phone. Even in his drunken state, he chased me all over the house trying to get the phone from me, jeering all the time as he did so. At one point, he had me pinned face down on the bed trying to force the phone from my grasp. I was begging him to be reasonable and eventually screaming at the top of my lungs to try to alert my neighbours of my plight.
Somehow he managed to get the phone from me and we ended up downstairs, all the time taunting me on how he was going to destroy this lastest bit of my property.
Terrified for my own safety, I managed to grab a cordless landline phone, shut myself in the garden, dial 999 and shout my address to the controller. I was trying to describe the incident when the line went dead.
Desperate to be able to continue the call, I went back in where my husband was waiting for me, mobile phone in one hand and a hammer in the other. He’s genuinely never had a problem with my phone (which I rarely use) he was just waiting to see my reaction at him hurting me through property damage once again and destroying my last useful link to the outside world.
I tried once again to grab the phone, desperate to be able to get out of the situation and away from him. My husband with a hammer in his hand trying to force me to watch the wilful destruction of my phone was the first sight that greeted the two police officers which walked into my kitchen. I’ve never been so relieved to see police officers before in my life.
The upshot of that night was my husband being taken away for a night in the cells and me staying up all night, being interviewed whilst completely shocked and wired. During the giving of my statement, I tried to message a few people and suddenly realised I no longer had a broadband connection. That’s the first time it had occurred to me that even in his drunken state, my husband had had the foresight to disconnect the landline phone from the inside when I was trying to phone the police.
The following day, I was interviewed by the community policing team who basically tried to give me helpful advice (such as always try and keep a charged mobile about my person –Hah!) but I’d learned my lesson, there was no way I could stay in the house. My husband had been arrested for the previous destruction of the laptop and the threat to my phone but as there was no recordable evidence of harm to myself and because he totally denied any sort of assault, they were the only charges brought.
I went (with my three beloved dogs) to stay with my mother. She has been good to me in sharing her home, but it is a tiny mobile home suitable for only one person. My mother is also very different from me. She has never owned a computer, so hasn’t got Facebook or LJ and doesn’t know how to send a text. Therefore she has no idea of the restriction I feel for having little access to my online life (all of which has had to be conducted from my phone.) I also enjoy the odd beer to relax on a night off from work, something as a teetotaller she completely detests.She nearly had apoplexy when I had a second can the other night. Heaven knows, if ever I could have used a beer to help me relax it’s now! The dogs almost saved my sanity the first night or two, but even though they were tremendously well behaved, the stress of having them all in such a small place together with my mother’s small yappy terrier (which is spoiled and untrained) soon wore everyone’s patience. A few days ago, I made a 500 mile round trip to place the dogs into long term foster care. When or whether I will ever be in the position to take them back, I don't know.
In the meantime, I have had NO idea how to carry on living my life. I have next to no money to my name, all of my possessions are in the house which my husband’s been bailed back to and after living 10 years in a place that I have made my sanctuary, I’m very very homesick. Though my husband and I were jointly buying the house, his sole intention was getting me out of it in order to go back to the bachelor lifestyle he claims he preferred. He therefore has no intention of leaving the property and even less intention of me getting any monies I might be owed. His case came to court and he was fined £1500 (which as far as I know is damages to come back to me in lieu of the ruined computer and distress to myself.) I now have a restraining order against him for the next six months. None of this has particularly bothered him however; his answer to it all was to simply sign up to a couple of dating sites.
So I’m still at my mothers, still shell shocked and still feeling all at sea. I’m currently waiting to hear about a flat to rent which I dearly hope will come through as it’s the only vague possibility that I’ve heard about that I can remotely afford. Fortunately I have passed referencing to become a tenant, though the work needed to collect all the data required was incredibly stressful as my husband was being so unfair about me gaining access to collect the relevant documents.
My next move will have to be to instruct a solicitor, something I’ve so far shied away from as I’m so poor, but I’m awaiting a meeting with a domestic abuse intervention team so I might be able to find out if I could possibly get legal aid or at least some help financially as I have no idea how to afford legal fees otherwise.
My dearest wish at the moment is to get my flat so that I can get my dear dogs back and have some space to call my own. Then in the future, I might once again get to own my own computer again (I’m typing this in the public library) so that I might be able to at last put some happier posts up. Thankyou (as always) for your time xx

Six months ago, I read a true life story which prompted me to write a fan fic. It was to be my next entry for the Big Bang challenge. However, so much changed throughout the writing that I scrapped the Big Bang idea. The story became too important. My two precious readers who encouraged the stories' every word became too important. Ray Doyle, my all time gorgeous hero became less important as I thought of the unsung men behind the true story. When I finally heard of the troubles that have ensued in HMP Birmingham and understanding the possible issues behind them, I decided to post the story.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8878033

Oops, that terrifying moment when you accidentally send a parcel ...

Quite honestly, when I look at the personal recs on my Amazon page it reads like something halfway between a prescription pad and a porn site. If anyone found my Kindle they would quite possibly have a field day (or a heart attack depending on their point of view of course).
Therefore, when something unusual pops up in suggestions, I tend to sit up and take notice. When 'Don't Ever Wipe Tears Without Gloves' came up, I sat up and took notice. It had been aired on BBC4 which is far too highbrow for my teeny tiny brain, so I would have missed the free airings and been put off by the subtitling anyway. (It's Swedish with English titles).
However, something that well-starred was not to be sniffed at, so I ordered and then I watched. Then I cried, and I watched some more. Then I drank a bottle of red and I threw some things around. Then I watched some more and then I wrote a fic.
Generally I never post fiction without at least thinking a little, but I was saying this one aloud before I even reached the keyboard.
I normally dislike the thought of any work I do being slated, but on this occassion, I don't care. I'm also sorry to have had to use my favourite characters to express how I felt about watching this film.
Watch this if you can, everyone SHOULD see this piece at least once. Read my fic if you like, the choice on that is entirely yours.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/6399088