Play time
Lindy Woodhead
GADGETS
Living in an all-male household (husband, two sons, cosseted cat) has tended to colour my perception of technology. Over the past two decades or so of explosive growth in technical wizardry, gadgets have inevitably been geared towards the men in my life. In what was the cutting edge of cool at the time, I bought my husband a pocket calculator for Christmas 1973. It was a Casio. Or maybe a Commodore. I can’t remember which. Sadly we weren’t clever enough to keep it. That calculator, along with his first mobile phone, aka ‘the brick’, bought circa 1986 — both prized collector’s items now — were discarded long ago.
A visit to the National Museum of Computing at Bletchley Park, where you can see over 50 vintage calculators, serves to remind us of short-lived trends in tempting technology. The trouble with being ahead of the curve is that things often don’t work. I have an enduring memory of a gadget-conscious client of our PR agency in the heady 1980s who was inordinately fond of his ‘solar locking’ briefcase. Revelling in the status of this glitzy piece of kit, so confident was he of its security and strength that on a shockingly expensive press jaunt to Monte Carlo, he stored his credit cards and travellers’ cheques inside his new toy, rather than in the Hotel Hermitage safe. On the last day it rained. As the heavens opened and our bill was presented, the briefcase remained firmly shut, only opening when the hotel porter took a sledgehammer to it. Solar briefcases were shortlived, but the Solar Monkey (£34, www. itmustbegreen.co.uk) recharger is today’s travel essential.
I’ve lost track of the telephones, answering machines, VHS recorders, Nintendos, PlayStations and Sony Walkmans that have littered our home. Even the cat got a look-in, with an expensive cat-flap complete with his own individual electronic lock. While all this was going on, I personally eschewed most of it, preferring to write using my golf-ball type writer while resisting the lure of a laptop. Latterly, I’ve bowed to the inevitable and, like most late converts, am becoming dangerously keen on the topic of technology.
Old habits die hard though. Unlike the 90 per cent of Britons who, according to Vodafone, are glued to their handsets, my Luddite tendencies put me off mobiles for years. Not that my present phone strikes much envy in the hearts of my girlfriends (techno one-upmanship being hugely prevalent in both sexes), but while waiting for the BlackBerry storm to hit, my sweet little payas-you-go that cost all of £35 has done me very well.
Choosing a phone is a personal pleasure, best left to the individual. But with gifts in mind there’s a mass of enticing technology to go round. Remember, though, that lurking at the back of most kitchen cupboards are the many mistakes made at this time of year. Hands up those who actually use their toasted sandwich-maker? The more classic the kitchen gadget, the more covetable. Not for nothing is the Waring Blender — invented in a ‘music while you work’ moment by American big-band leader Fred Waring in 1936 — still a bestseller. I’m a great fan of functional, albeit aesthetically pleasing, design. Thus, in my kitchen, pride of place goes to a Dualit toaster. Our recently acquired Krups juicer is in daily use and, having finally succumbed to a coffee-maker, I have high hopes that our brand new Gaggia will hit the spot. Just in case, I won’t be parting with my Aerolatte Milk Frother — one of the best gadgets going and a snip at £15.
Gadgets have become an integral part of our life and wellbeing. For the past two months I’ve watched my eldest son’s anguish at losing his database when his laptop crashed. What’s worse, he had no back-up. At least I’ve got my trusty GBC Bates Rolodex — even if you can’t get the refill cards any more! To avoid disaster striking twice, I will buy him a TrekStor DataStation Microdisk (around £140; www.amazon.co. uk), a gleaming little black credit-card-size gadget that he can use not merely to back up his data but to store 100 or more films in mp4 format. For film fans and fretful children, long journeys to stay in low-tech households at Christmas can be tricky. A Movietraveller portable DVD player with integrated speakers would solve the problem (about £200). For iPod owners who miss the radio, a plug-in Roberts Robi (about £50; www.robertsradio) would be ideal, and if downloading music onto an iPod is just too daunting, you can buy a Nano ready-filled with 1920s, 1930s and 1940s vintage gems (£279.97; www.pastperfect.com). Pop it into a Soundtraveller K3000ST sound system (£65) and everyone will be tap dancing around the turkey.
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