Not so many years ago I bemoaned the impossibility of viewing Banks' Save while discussing it in the pub with my mate Ken. This Christmas Santa made all such things possible... or so I thought.
Armed with my latest flashy gadget and two pints of Deuchars from the bar, last night I proudly announced we were going to turn soccer fantasy into fiction (Ken had been one of the reviewers of my book).
Eagerly, ham-fistedly, we made various attempts at typing the correct words on the tiny touchpad and - after a couple of misfires on Google (Banks' Cave... Vanjd Dace... that kind of thing) - sure enough up came the film clips.
But... oh no! It says we need wifi to see the action. Do we want to join the [local pub name] network? Well - yes we did - except the sullen-faced barstaff refused to give us the password ('Company policy... staff use only').
Ah well... there's always the maps, I said. Look, I can show you where we are and get names and phone numbers of nearby bars - this one even. (We can phone our next order from our table!). But... more disappointment... maps only viewable with wifi. This ain't gonna help next time I'm lost in the mist, somewhere on the slippery slopes of Ben McDuff.
Christmas was tough enough, what with wiring up the Wii (1 hr), building the impossibly fiddly fairy castle (4 hrs), taking back the jacket with missing buttons (2 hrs)... and now I find the latest supergadget a bit of a let down. Life was definitely simpler back in the original 'wireless' days of Banks v Pele.
