Alice-Azania Jarvis: Jangled and fazed by dongles and fascinators

In The Red
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The Independent Online

To everyone who asked for more details on the egg, apologies. I don't have them. I think – but am very far from sure – that it is one and the same as a personal wireless router. Quite possibly, it is not. But like I said, for details such as that, Chris Maynard at Think Inc's your man. Me? Well, I've decided to abandon my quest for affordable modernity. Instead, I shall embrace what the rest of the country appears to have done some time ago. I'm going to sign up to regular, non-dongle broadband. You know: The type that necessitates a landline, a line rental and – horrors – a phone number (which I shall never use, obviously, because I can imagine few things worse than people calling me at home, without caller ID).

Doing this might cost more than my dongle: the package I've opted for is £20 a month, plus there's a one-off £25 number activation, not to mention the more daunting spectre of a wireless router. But the time, I've been forced to admit, has come. I can't stare at a dysfunctional browser any longer, and Chris has promised to hold my hand through the pain (as well as finding me the best possible deal). It will, he says, will be much like connecting to the electricity grid or opting for running water: an irritating, rather joyless expenditure followed by immense relief at the convenience. I might even be able to stream The Apprentice on iPlayer.

And to those others, who wrote in to reassure me that of course Pippa bought her wedding outfit online, the night before the wedding – maybe even in Asos's reduce-to-clear section – thank you. But I don't believe it for a moment. In truth, I've all but given up on my quest for the Perfect Wedding Attire (far more fun is the Perfect Hen Night Attire, which I think I rather perfected last Saturday as I danced around a living-room with no shoes and a very, ahem, themed hat) . Rather like the Internet Egg, the PWA was one ambition too far. Seeing as the big day is not just a full three hours train journey away from where I live, and thus in an entirely unfathomable climate, but also on a farm, and we've been warned that we might need wellies, I've come to recognise that suitable, elegant clothing probably doesn't exist. Instead, I've invested in a cagoul. So much more useful than a fascinator.

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