Craic On

I love technology: I love the oven, the kettle, the toaster. I loved the TV I grew up with. That’s the one that had an enormous “V” shaped areal that extended out of the top and sat on four screw in legs. It had a button for turning it on and off and a dial that could be set to three locations: BBC1, BBC2 and ITV. The only time we ever spoke to it, (and here I use the term loosely) was when the tube blew up and it had to be taken away for repairs. I never speak to my desktop, tablet or telephone in the tone we spoke to the telly the day the tube expired. I use slow and measured tones in order that there should be no misunderstanding between us. I pride myself on having articulatory agility, which as every drama student knows, is a desirable ability. Not desirable enough for the technology that I now routinely speak to, which is petulant, defiant and doesn’t listen. The intuitive claims of manufacturers are either untrue or I am lacking in intuition. Having worked out how to operate the dictation command