Mrs P’s sister had a bad day at the office today, quite literally. I should explain that the two of them have their own business from our home, so home is the office.
Anyway, it started when Aitch tried to fire up her Apple Mac and found it was dead. Nothing. Zero. It turned out that Master P was to blame. He had ‘borrowed’ the Mac’s keyboard over the weekend for reasons that don’t matter here. The point being that he managed to bust the Mac’s USB port in the process so that the thing was shorting, hence the blank screen.
It just took the morning and no work done to work it out and put it right. The Mac is working, after a fashion.
Next up, some arsehole stove in her car’s rear windscreen. In broad daylight on a Tuesday afternoon, on a main road. Bloody half-term.
Breath was being held for the third bit of bad luck which hasn’t arrived, at least as I write.