The Beginning Of The End

The first thing that happened was that the del key on my laptop fell off. Just flicked off one day, and began circulation of my bombsite of a room. It's out there somewhere. On the floor, maybe, under the bed. In the wardrobe. In a drawer. It could be practically anywhere. Might have gone to France, chased away by the disgusting climate we have all been enduring.

Er. Maybe it would need to go a little further than France. I don't know. Any french people out there? How's your weather been? Would you like a scone?

The del key fell off. Seeing as I was running a rather dated version of Windows, this was fairly cataclysmic. No ctrl-alt-del. Viciously attacking the sensitive metal thingie exposed, I discovered that I have excessively podgy fingers. The only one that would on occasion provoke a response was my pinky finger.

This, fortunately, is not a tragic narrative detailing the stabbing overuse of an abused pinky finger. It is not a story of trials and tribulations overcome, of my pinky finger asserting its downtrodden strength of character. My pinky finger did not leave for France.

This is the story of my laptop and I, a rollercoaster romance in which a cast-off forgotten lump of hardware and computery bits finds itself cherished anew. It is a fairly short and dull tale, with a preoccupation with the murky conclusion and demmise of the relationship.

It won't take me long to write. It's probably not very interesting to anybody that isn't me, my pinky finger, or France. But here it is anyway. Or it will be. Right now I'm after breakfast.

No pinky fingers were harmed in the writing of this ramble.