What day are we on now? Oh yes. I’m still in that odd time zone of not being exactly sure what day of the week it is. Sometimes I don’t even know what time of day it is because the shutters are shut to keep in the warmth. I’ll get up early, as usual, make a cup of tea, switch on the computers and heaters, drink the cup of tea in the sitting room and wake up for half an hour. Then I’ll commute across the porch to the study and check the emails before getting on with whatever work the day has in store. A couple of hours later, I will emerge to find it light outside and either raining, as it was yesterday, or not. But I think today, as I write, is Thursday. In fact, I am sure of it now because I just checked a date on an email…
I love spam. Well, I don’t, it’s a pain in the Mailwasher, but it sometimes gives me a laugh. His morning, for example, I opened the Mailwasher programme and, as usual, ticked everything for delete. I then go through and un-check the emails I actually want; the rest get thrown off the server before they reach my computer. The programme also lets you bounce emails back, report spam and flag up dodgy messages. I love bouncing back spam emails, not that it seems to make much difference to the overall number. Today I have eight from ‘Janet’ or someone offering to touch me up, or to touch up my photos, simply because we have photos on our blog. Jane is an auto-bot or something, but she’s not as bad as Marci or Angela or anyone else who starts an email with ‘My Dearest,’ or ‘Darling’, or ‘Beloved’ as if we were characters from a Catherin Cookson meeting on a moor near Tyneside, or whatever she wrote.
I ignore those of course and bounce them back when in the mood – that way, hopefully, the auto-bots thinks my email doesn’t exist, and it is deleted from their lists. Worse, are the ones that tell you they have your password, and they seem to have found one of them, and threaten you with exposure if you don’t pay up. Bounce! I never bother with those, but if I am worried, I change my password for the site they have flagged up – usually Facebook. I am never worried because the password they seem to have found is invariably an old one from years ago and besides, they can plaster my browser history if they want, I don’t think anyone would be surprised by it, and I’d certainly not be bothered. Anyway, this morning I had an interesting message from someone who apparently knew me intimately, and not just me; you too. It was addressed to Symi Dream and began:
Thank you, first off, for your work in serving the senior community!
Worth ignoring for the unnecessary exclamation mark alone. Well there you go, seniors, I’m off to do something youthful and more useful than filtering spam.