Diminishing type

IRECENTLY complained about the diminishing size of the type used in magazines, newspapers and the pamphlets that come in medicine packaging.

It seems not all elderly readers are techno-illiterate. Hilda wrote telling me a good way to remedy this problem. “Use your smartphone,” she says.

When Hilda finds some printing that’s too small to read she whips out her cellphone and takes a photograph of it. Then she simply looks at the picture and enlarges it until it’s legible.

I use my smartphone as a shopping list, among other things.

I keep a pad stuck to the fridge door and write down stuff as it comes to mind.

Before setting off to do my shopping I just take a quick photo of the list and slip it into my pocket.

There’s no danger of my losing the list because my phone stays firmly in my pocket all day long, counting the number of steps I take. I have an app that counts my steps and chides me when I don’t reach my goal of 5 000 a day.

I think it’s a fine way of ensuring that I don’t spend all day lounging about scoffing rusks and watching TV.

I must confess, though, that in the recent cold and wet weather my step count has not always reached target and the rusk supply has dropped alarmingly.

It’s not much fun stomping about in the rain and I feel a complete idiot trying to make up 5 000 steps marching round and round the lounge carpet.

It’s getting a bit threadbare and the cats are getting dizzy.

I think one of the most useful functions of my phone is as a kitchen timer.

I have a regular clock-work timer but it’s not much use.

I set it to go off after 30 minutes and then go shopping or weeding the garden and come back two hours later to be confronted by a pot of charcoal.

With the phone acting as my timer I set it to the required time and slip it into my pocket, so it is constantly with me.

I then hear it pinging in the supermarket, I grab it from my pocket and try in vain to answer it.

It stops pinging and I say to nobody in particular, “The idiots have hung up on me.” Then I come home and find a pot of charcoal on the stove.

I’m not sure all this modern technology really changes my life significantly.

Charcoal is charcoal, whether it is created digitally or analogically (if there is such a word).

Last Laugh

A class of small children was taken on a field trip to the local police station.

After being shown the two-way radio, the patrol van and the police cells they came to the charge office, where there were photographs of the 10 most wanted people pinned to the notice board.

“Who are these guys?” asked a sevenyear-old.

“They are all wanted criminals,” explained the cop.

He pointed to one of the pictures and said; “We’ve been trying to capture that man for the last three months.”

The boy thought for a moment, then said: “Why didn’t you just grab him when he came in to have his photo taken?”