ANOTHER OF THOSE INFURIATING BLOG CONTRETEMPS (1 JUNE 2020)

Who said the visitations of 'Murphy' were confined to those living in a caravan? 

As the first icy blasts of the changing season fling themselves in from the Southern Ocean, whistling around our new home hurling rain and sleet at our recently acquired ramparts, it has indeed become 'the winter of my discontent'!

After four hectic weeks of the 'lucky dip' of unpacking crates and cartons which have remained sealed for nearly ten years, rushing hither and yon buying white goods, beds, tables and all sorts of paraphernalia necessary for a halfway comfortable domestic existence (whilst still awaiting new built in robes, a kitchen dresser, casual dining and lounge furniture, a TV table and our new bar) and setting up a temporary office from which I can again electronically correspond with the world at large, disaster has struck.

For the past four days I have been attempting to revisit our travelling tales with the ambition to spend at least every second morning henceforth 'catching up'. This process began, as it always does, with a photo cull and selection. 

I was a coiled spring.....my fingers flew over the keyboard with the first few paragraphs of text. And, as has ever been the case, I set about loading relevant photos.

That, my many friends, is where the whole process came to a shuddering halt. For some reasons which obviously remains completely beyond me, each photo frame included the dreaded error exclamation mark and the fateful words 'upload failed: server rejected'. 

To make matters infinitely worse, this fateful message is delivered in bold print.....as if I didn't bloody well know that the system was failing me!

I did try a few alternative copy and paste methods but the rejection was continual and absolute. After hours of stubborn resistance the penny bearing the title 'Rational' finally clattered to the floor.....GIVE UP!

So dear friends, I have decided to temporarily cut my considerable key board losses and get on with the myriad of other domestic tasks which taunt me each morning from a very long list on the fridge, a list which now includes 'find a local computer whiz!

As MacArthur vowed, "I shall return", but do not press me for a date!

I do find it somewhat disconcertingly eerie that this computer contretemps has so neatly coincided with the time at which our caravan wheels have ceased their continual turning......an omen perchance? Time will tell.