First hitch

Well there has to be one, doesn’t there? Wouldn’t be real life otherwise.

Yesterday afternoon, call from mother asking if I could explain to carer (whose name is not Barbara but I’ll call her that for now) how you put the scanning mouse into the back of the telly. No problem. 'Barbara' picks up the line : 

“I don’t do anything technical. My husband does everything like that.”  What, changing lightbulbs? But I keep that thought zipped. It's just something is making my hackles rise, ever so slightly. Something in the ether.

“You know what a scart connection looks like?”

“Um.” 

“Well if you look at the mouse cable you’ll see a long rectangular plug thing, and on the back of the telly you’ll see a socket just the same size. You just plug it in. It’s got one corner skewed so you can’t put it in the wrong way. You’ll see what I mean.”  I could tell her you can actually do it wrong if you’re hamfisted and shove it in half sideways and mash up the little pins, but consider it wise not to mention this.

“Which side of the TV?”

“In the back. There are only two of these sockets. One’s already got a plug in it. The other one’s empty. You plug the scart into the empty one.” (Aware that I’m talking as if to a three year old but don’t want her to have any wiggle room to pretend it’s all too complicated.) “You can’t miss it. And the other end of the cable has an ordinary 3–pin plug. That goes into the wall.” (There are two cables running from the mouse, you understand  – one to the power plug, one to the TV.)

“And I can still watch the TV can I?”

“Well not while my mother’s trying to read something with the mouse because the writing comes up on the screen. That’s the point of it.”  I thought she’d grasped that when I told her about the amazing magnifying scanning mouse the other day. (It has a little light inside and a camera lens instead of a ball or laser.) And of course I’m wishing I’d installed it before I left late the other night. But 'Barbara' kept saying “Oh leave that I’ll do it” about this and that and I was shattered by then.

“Oh. Well I’m trying to watch the TV.”

“What’s on?” I ask as innocently as possible.

“The sport.”

“Oh, the athletics?” Guessing, cos I’d seen the TV guide.

“Yes.”

“Well don’t worry about it. Once my mother’s tried to read something for two minutes she’ll give it up as a lost cause and you’ll get the athletics back. Or you could read out whatever it is for her.”

I mean THAT’S THE WHOLE POINT OF YOU BEING THERE……..

I feel like roaring like a lion. Instead I lie in bed at night grinding my teeth and trying to calm down.

It explains why she keeps muttering about how The Carer should have a TV of their own in the bedroom. I’m altogether a bit surprised at how much she mentions TV, generally. I’ve said I’ll try to fix something up. Funny how it’s the first I’ve heard of it though.  I don’t remember anyone at the agency saying anything. As far as they were concerned as long as there were a couple of drawers free and somewhere to hang up clothes, and a few bits of flat surfaces to put things on, that was it. The Carer was supposed to be doing whatever The Client wanted. With some time off, to be arranged between us. Fair enough.

There is another telly but it’s huge and doesn’t fit anywhere, and the only other aerial is in my mother’s bedroom. I’ll think of something, because The Carer's entitled to spend her time off watching TV, but in the meantime perhaps a shift in her priorities might be in order………  

GGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Am I overreacting? Have I missed something?