Out of Touch

My email's not working.

Did you hear me?
I SAID MY EMAIL'S NOT WORKING

This is serious.  The first I knew of it was last night about 7 when I started my email program and clicked on Send/Receive.
Instead of the usual dialogue box showing the completion of download, I got a little box asking me for my password.  It's been a year since I set up the system, and it's been automatic logon ever since.  I wasn't completely sure what my password was.  I tried my usual 5 or 6 to no effect.

Eventually, I phoned Telsta, my providers through Clear.net.  The reassuring automatic phone message said that I would have a wait of 17 minutes, then it said they're all busy, then it cut off.

Oh Oh.

Went to the Telstra web site and eventually (Why do they make it so difficult to navigate through their flashy web site to find the Network Problems page.) discovered that all emails using Telstra were down.
The technical bit at the end said "Telstra had lost contact with their servers"

Lost Contact?

What the hell did that mean.

Had they forgotten where they kept them?
Had the servers had enough and run away?

Maybe Telsra hadn't bothered writing to them often enough to keep them happy.

If the servers were female, we're really in the shit.

The star-level guesthouse deaf-mute special female server
(I kid you not.  From a 5 star  hotel in Shanghai)

With blokes, you don't have to keep in constant communication.  Blokes just don't have 3 hour phone calls discussing everything on Earth.  Like Aunty Doreen and what she did with that conniving bastard of a second husband, or the best lipstick available at the sales, or what everyone wore at cousin Ethyl's wedding in 1992 or (shudder) the latest gynecological problems.  I normally don't mind too much, I just carry on reading my book, or watching TV, or having a gentle doze on the couch.  But when they start discussing their plumbing, I'm off.  I don't care where.  Garage maybe, and saw a bit of wood, or bang in a nail.  Maybe the garden, lawns could always do with another mow.  Maybe even take the dog for a walk.

When blokes phone other blokes, the conversation is probably over inside 5 minutes max.  Unless it's something important, like coaching a computer novice in setting up their emails or anti-virus program or similar.(There is one major exception to this rule.  When a bloke is phoning a new girlfriend, especially one with whom he thinks he has a major chance of a score, then we can talk the hind leg of a donkey.  Isn't sex, or even the glimmer of hope of sex a great motivator?)

However, getting back to the main point, blokes don't need to constantly keep in touch.  There are some friends back in Scotland who I haven't seen in years, but I know if I phone and say I'll be over next month, and do they fancy a pint, everything'll be right.

Not so with the ladies.

For some strange reason they get a bit miffed if you don't phone or drop a card.  I can remember one girlfriend (long time ex-girlfriend just in case my beloved reads this) who wouldn't talk to me just because I hadn't phoned her for TWO WEEKS.  I'm sure I'd told her that I was off to Germany on a wee exercise with the Army, but she just hung up when I phoned after I got back to Scotland.  I even had to send a mate around to get my clothes.

So I sincerely hope that Telstra's email servers are blokes, probably with names like Morpheus, or Fred or even Bruce (Aussie jokes are still popular), because it'll be relatively easy to get in contact with them again.. Just suggest the Parrot and Firkin at 8 o'clock and she'll be right.

If however their names are Maureen or Gwendolyne or even Euphemia, then we're stuffed.  It'll take long extended negotiations to restore their hurt feelings, probably will involve flowers (lots of long-stemmed roses), perfume, lots of choccies and worst of all, long talks on the phone about "The Relationship"

I don't care how they do it, but I want my email back.  I need my email back.  Thank goodness Telstra's Internet Servers are still OK (probably called Dan and Ted), not being able to blog would be the final straw.

I've just remembered one major exception to the "Blokes don't talk for long on the phone" rule.  There was another time I was on exercise near Dortmund, and I had 36 hours off.  I phoned my then girlfriend (a different one) to find that she was on heat.  This resulted in the longest, steamiest phone call of my life, when she described what she would like to do (and be done to) when I got back into the UK.  I will spare you the sordid details, but I needed a very long cold shower before I was again acceptable by polite society.

Cold Showers
The Stoic's method of Birth Control

I want my email back