There are days when I get ridiculously nostalgic for the time before tech. I’m pretty sure there is a word for misplaced nostalgia and a yearning for a simpler life, something suitably Germanic or better yet, Finnish – all vowels and little dots above letters. I was a child of the 90’s because even though I was born in the early 80’s, my childhood that I remember properly was very firmly in the 90’s. I have very squidgy memories of the 80’s; Dad’s record player, tantalizingly delicate with its arm and the needle, the bay window of the house my sister was born in, the front step and the sliding glass door from the dining room into the garden. There was no technology that I remember other than that record player. Friends with children tell of accidental in-app purchases, of children that can work the iPad better than they can, of primary school children with a £400 iPhone – thankfully I am still childless and have all this to look forward to.
Yesterday is really when my tech issue started. Back in April, I bought myself a little gadget; a vivofit band from Garmin. It wasn’t expensive as far as these things are, it wasn’t the top of the range but it did exactly what I wanted. I was happy with it, people wanted to know if I liked it and whether it was worth it. I was, I did and it was – until yesterday. Something has broken and I’m not sure if it’s the band, the app that goes with it or my mobile phone (I want to say cell phone, but I’m a Brit and that would be wanky and stupid). The sync function stopped working and the WiFi on my phone cut out when I tried to sync the band. Nothing helped and I got mightily frustrated. Eventually I took the incredibly stupid step of uninstalling the app, reinstalling and hoping that this would work.
Reader, please don’t do this. I’ve lost four months of data. My band still isn’t syncing with my phone, I still have no data and the PC version of Garmin Connect has all had all the data erased. If I had been hormonal, I would have cried. Seriously. I wasn’t even using the data for anything other than trying to beat the step record from the previous month. I would look at the sleep data, seeing whether my previous night’s sleep was better than the one the day before and whether my cheese consumption had any bearing on the little graph showing the quality of the sleep. I liked seeing my progress, my additional steps, worked a bit harder to walk about more – for no other reason than I wanted to. I gave up trying to sync the damn band. I’m probably going to end up emailing Garmin support and asking why the bloody thing is playing silly buggers – not sure I want to know but the curious cat in me needs to ask the question.
In complete juxtaposition of my ridiculous nostalgia, I embraced the wonders of music on one’s mobile phone and downloaded Spotify. I’ve been using Husband’s account when I’m studenting (if this isn’t an adjective it should be) but this weekend he’s been using it. Rude, I know. Having a little juke box (seriously, look it up) in my pocket or on the desk is fabulous and makes me laugh at my past self, the 20 minute ago self, who was so eager to rid herself of her “tech”. I will admit to using some displacement activity as a balm to the tech, the hideous essay attempt I’m currently thrashing around in like a stranded salmon and the general working-on-a-Sunday vibe: I baked. Brownies for a friend-at-work’s belated birthday and a take on Nigella Lawson’s Italian Breakfast Banana Bread. Timed them both on my phone….oh.
Yeah ok, so I’m not ready to ditch the tech yet.