Heather has suffered an ongoing trauma of cataclysmic proportions this week. Has she broken something? An elbow or a toe maybe? Has anyone died? No much worse than any of that – her Jawbone won’t update on to Facebook.
The Jawbone in question is not the bone normally located on the bottom of one’s face. It’s a pink bracelet which Heather has got permanently attached to her wrist, like a curfew tag you might see on the ankle of a miscreant. It dictates everything. For instance, at ten o clock in the evening we can be sitting here in our PJ’s waiting for Mr Sandman to bring us some dreams, when Heather’s Jawbone ‘App’ tells her that she is 1,000 steps short of her total for the day. “I just need to walk round the block,” she will say, and off she trots. Not such a clever piece of technology really, because why does it leave it until 10pm to bring this up?
I’m used to such conversation stoppers as, “The Jawbone says I have to be in bed for 9pm tonight.” Such random statements are part of our routine, but it’s causing Heather endless mental anguish that for the past week her sole audience has been me, and it’s boring just telling me.
“Why don’t you just put your own post on Facebook?” I wanted to know. “Couldn’t you just write it out and post it yourself?”
Apparently that will not do, she needs the proper app, which is broken. Because of this she’s been unable to share the minute details of her exertions with the rest of the world (the rest of the world that’s on Facebook anyway) so she fired off a shirty email to Jawbone about it. This is unprecedented. Whenever someone or something in life gets Heather down, such as a waiter being rude, or she’s refused entry into a festival for carrying a picnic, she will mutter darkly to her adversary that she will be “writing” and so they had better watch out. What she actually means though, is that she will be doing no such thing. She means that she will have me write, and she will pester me until I do. This week she complained to Jawbone, and then to Facebook, and she did it all by herself in a series of angst ridden missives.
Dear Jawbone,
I have recently found that I can no longer share to Facebook via the Jawbone app. This has caused me great inconvenience because my friends are very interested in how far I walk every day, and how much sleep I’ve had, and I’m unable to share/post it…..
Dear Jawbone,
It is two days since I emailed you about the failure of the Jawbone app to upload on to Facebook. I really thought I would have heard from you by now……..
She’s the same whenever there’s a fault with Sky. It’s about the only thing she will actually do something about rather than leaving it to me. If you were to walk in on one of her telephone conversations with a Sky engineer, you would imagine that she was on to NHS direct about a dying relation, such is the tender tone. “Yes, I’ve gently done that, and I’ve tried moving that and pressing firmly for two seconds. Oh Dear, I can’t get a response, can you come out urgently please? It really is urgent, Jeremy Kyle’s on in a minute.”
Eventually the problem with the Jawbone was sorted out, which will be a massive relief to Heather’s Facebook followers, particularly as she’s doing the Blaydon Race tonight, and everyone will want to know each last riveting detail. I think my running days are probably behind me, but the Blaydon Race was always my favourite race as a competitor. In line with the lyrics of the 19th century Geordie Ridley song, it’s always held on the 9th of June, irrespective of what day of the week the 9th of June falls upon. The atmosphere at the end is terrific, and the goody bag is pretty superior too, better than any other. In the past I’ve been rewarded with a bottle of beer, a stottie cake, and a very nicely made tee-shirt. The 5.7 mile run sets off from Collingwood Street at 7.15pm. DJ Gary Philipson will be on hand to see everyone off, and I’ll be down at the finish line to get photographs of as many people as I can, which I’ll post on here tomorrow. See Blaydon Race
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