I have to confess I find all this a bit confusing. I am rather old, and modern technology frightens the living daylights out of me! Some of the time I drive a 1946 Tourer car, which involves double de-clutching most of the gears. I can just about manage this, by using my teeth as necessary. But as usual I digress. I am typing this at a new "computer station" which turns into a double bed when you pull a handle. I suspect that if only I could find the correct knob it would turn into a bath or shower, with low level cistern. I fear it will suddenly become a transformer and swallow me into its cavernous inside region. I have some rather bizarre hobbies like doing jigsaw puzzles, picking up other peoples litter, and supporting Ipswich Town! I have a wonderful wife who ministers to all my needs, - more anon! When no-one is looking I sneak in here and write my memoirs, which like those of some other people are completely without drama, excitement or interest of any kind. I think that one day people will read them instead of Shakespeare. Though I don't think people do read Shakespeare much do they? It's easier to get some footballers memoirs downloaded onto your Kindle, perhaps.
I try to resist starting sentences with "Now when I was a boy...." or "I remember watching the Queens Coronation procession in 1953 from a shop window in Regent Street...." though for the life of me I can't remember how I got there or quite why. I do find modern art above my head, or else propped up on the floor at Tate Modern. I was taken round there on a lead by my family, to introduce me to modern culture. There was a video being projected on a large wall, depicting a naked man cavorting and swinging his todger around in circles, - very artistic if you can do it. I remarked out loud that I hoped that the radiator in the picture was on and working, as otherwise he risked frostbite. The family dragged me away before I could make other inappropriate remarks, but I noticed that a lot of the people around me fell about laughing!
If modern art, like untidy soiled beds and pickled sharks and cows, makes people laugh, then I am all for it!
I think I am going to have to stop soon. My absence has been detected, and a search party is just being organised the check "that I am not up to mischief!" As the house, which is in fact quite a small bungalow, is full of six lively grandchildren, they can fan out and find me in no time. Unless I can hide in this computer station thingy.
If you have read this far, you are very kind and patient, and I shall hope to meet you when I come back again. I hugely enjoyed the Boat Race, - haven't laughed so much for ages! I do hope the swimmer man got reunited with some clothes at some point! Now I must pretend I have just been writing another pointless page of my boring memoirs, and perhaps I shall get away with having let myself go and posted this, or whatever I have to do with it. Au Revoir! (That's your actual French, as Kenneth Williams would have said if he'd been spared.)