I know … I know … that’s amazing … but in a choice between eating chocolate or writing total and utter bollocks, chocolate wins.
That’s it … there’s nothing I can really add so how about I talk to you about this:
That … ladies and gentlemen … is my calculator.
Not just any calculator … but the same one I have had since 1980.
NINETEEN EIGHTY!!!
Half you bastards weren’t even born back then … but what’s even more astounding [as well as explain why I’m not very good at maths] is that it’s still on the same battery.
I know – that sounds amazing doesn’t it – but it’s true … I have a battery that is older than the sperm that created you.
And here’s the thing, I love it.
Let me clarify … I love the calculator, not the sperm that created you. [Sorry]
What’s funny is that when I got it, my school chums took the piss saying it was the size of a BBC Computer [think ‘Apple Mac’ but for UK schools in the 80’s] and now when people see it, they laugh because it’s an antique … but I don’t care … it’s a friend that has seen me through all manner of situations and circumstances.
It’s helped me work out how much it would cost to buy all the things I want from the Argos catalogue.
It’s occasionally helped me in maths exams [though I once got 2% so that’s questionable]
It’s worked out how much take home pay I’ll have.
It’s helped me remember people’s phone numbers.
It’s worked out the cost of mortgages.
It’s added up my expenses.
It’s subtracted my credit card bill from my budget.
It’s helped me pass the time by playing the “who can be the first to get the E symbol on the screen” games.
It’s helped me work out %’s from tax to higher purchase.
It’s told me how much things have cost in foriegn lands.
It’s told me how overdrawn I am.
It’s made me laugh when I typed 55378008
I like that it’s big and ugly … I like that it’s got the most boring colour scheme known to man … I like how it feels … I like that it’s complex and has buttons that I’ve never ever used … and whilst the IKEA lamp ad would say I am a misguided sentimentalist, the fact is it’s been there through my most pivotal of days … from school exams and first job through to the purchase of my first house and car through to leaving England and saying goodbye to my Dad … so getting rid of it wouldn’t be getting rid of an out-of-date calculator, it would be me turning my back on something that helps me feel linked to my past, my heritage, my home.
To paraphrase the Mad Men scene … it’s not a calculator, it’s a time machine … and I love it because to me it’s not worn out, it’s worn in.