TV TIMES

For a number of weeks now, the television upstairs has shown no pictures, nor from it has there issued the tiniest squeak. A sign on the screen invariably reads ‘weak or no signal.’ Rebooting the system and scanning the network has made absolutely no difference, despite several attempts, for in such cirtcumstances, one will grasp at the tiniest straw, no matter how unlikely the chance of success. One can delude oneself about anything, if one tries hard enough. Living in Haddington, surrounded by hills and tall trees, it is unsurprising that the signal is poor, but to have no signal at all….Reluctantly, I checked the mare’s nest of connections, including the one in the loft that is buried under three feet of Rockwool insulation.  I could find nothing amiss.  I did not want to talk to Talk Talk, who invariably keep one on the line for three hours whilst one is shuttled between Calcutta, Johannesburg and Woolongonga.  Instead, I took the plunge and rang the television man.  He came out the next day, complete with his long ladders and his box of electronic tricks.  He spent twenty minutes carrying out the same various checks that I had done myself the day before, then he erected his ladders and climbed up to the roof, where he carried out yet more tests.  He descended, glum-faced. “It’s your aerial, mate,’ he said, sucking his teeth in dismay, “It’s knackered.” He paused reflectively and added, unnecessarily, “you need a new one. Just so happens, I’ve got one in the back of the van.” “I thought you might,” I replied. Wearily, I commissioned him to replace the defunct aerial.  I retired to the living room.  Twenty minutes later he was at the front door.  “Job’s done”, he said, cheerily.  “How much?” I asked him.  He pulled a calculator from his pocket, tapped a few keys, and replaced it. “Three hundred and nine quid,” he said.  My jaw dropped in sheer astonishment. “Three hundred and nine pounds, to replace a TV aerial?”  He must have been well used to customers’ incredulity, for he carried on, unabashed. “Well, there’s the call-out charge, and that’s fifty-eight quid, and then there’s the dreaded VAT. Don’t worry, we’re a kosher company. You’ll get an invoice and we do accept debit cards.  That aerial will last another thirty years.” He looked me up and down.  “It’ll see you out, anyway.”  I paid him with extremely bad grace and he went on his way, whistling.  When he had gone, I looked out of the front window and saw that he had had the temerity to leave the old aerial in the street for me to dispose of.  I put it in the dustbin.  Later, I asked a friend who knows about such matters how much a new aerial might cost.  “Oh, I should say about thirty pounds,” was his answer.  So, for less than an hour’s work, the television man made a profit of £279. If I wasn’t so ancient, and didn’t have such a fear of heights, I might well go into that line of business myself. When I fired up the upstairs television later, I found that I could still only get the same channels as I did before, so no “Drama”, “Yesterday”, “History Channel”, “Quest” or “Dave”.  Still I can receive ITV 2 so I can watch that mischievous Kyle chap or that American woman judge who looks over the rim of her glasses and pronounces judgment on hapless American citizens. I suppose there are some compensations in life.