Dear PC Doctor


Dear PC Doctor,

I am writing with the hope that you will be able to understand my position and provide a suitable care for my beloved.

My Dell laptop is only 4 years and 6 months old. I paid handsome money for it and although the public perception is that dowry is thing of the past, I still do believe that this is a good way to introduce two upright families.

It was love from first sight – him with his mate black cover and Ferrari red lights dashing and dazzling in the late nights when I had to catch up with some paperwork, me – an inspiring high achiever who did the occasional work marathon until the early hours of the morning. (I still remember those jealous looks when we were going through airport security…) He was fast, responsive and very agile. I was totally captivated by him.

But now I feel that he is ageing faster than me.

His health deteriorated rapidly. During his lifetime he underwent a number of technical interventions, resuscitations and reboots. I looked after him and provided a weekly cleaning care with wet antiseptic wipes, anti-virus software and an initial 3 year guarantee (which came in quite handy, keeping in mind that the we had to call the helpline in the first year). I even upgraded his operational system, changed the lights to a more calming blue and refrained from a regular contact and use.

But now I feel that I have explored all options and I will have to retire him. He is becoming non-responsive and dementia is taking hold of him to the extent that I have to awake and re-boot him three to 5 times before he recognise me. He just blinks and the look disappears from his face, I can see his icons becoming mere shadows and waning on the background.

In the past 5 or 6 months he failed to perform on number of occasions and I feel let down and alone.

I don’t know about him but I don’t think this is a healthy way to have a relationship.

And this is why I have started to use internet and look for another partner. I know this is not right and I feel guilty and ashamed, but I need someone reliable, handsome and hardworking, preferably with big hard drive but light weight. It has to be modern, easy to operate and good with children (he will have to get along with my 6 years old son as mandatory). References are very important as I will be checking the reviews thoroughly.

Dear PC Doctor, I hope you do understand my position and help me to find a suitable and retirement home for my dear Dell. If this is not possible, I will have no choice but to ship him to Bulgaria.

Yours truly,


Two rare pictures

Homai Vyarawalla, India’s first woman photojournalist and the founder member of WNCA, turned 94 this year. Her camera has captured some of the defining moments in the country’s political history.This black and white picture of Nehru lighting a cigarette for the then British high commissioner’s wife is an absolute stunner.

Some photographs are to be admired, some are to be celebrated, but this one has the potential to give you goose bumps. Bedi says it was photographed when he was working on a new feature in Bishnoi in Rajasthan. The Bishnois worship nature in all its manifestations, and are a conservative community.

“It was hard for an outsider like me to come with my camera to photograph them. One day, I saw that a village dog had killed a chinkara fawn’s mother. So the Bishnoi family had adopted him before he becomes prey to other predators in wild and nursed him as if it was their own child.I was looking for one picture that can tell the story of their community’s strong feeling for the environment. After great difficulty, some six months later, I could get this picture showing how human beings live in harmony with nature.”

Vijay and his brother Ajay Bedi are the only Indians whose wildlife film has been nominated for the Emmys. They are also the youngest Indians to be honoured with the Green Oscar.

Male speech patterns

“I can’t find it”
MEANS: It didn’t fall into my outstretched hands so I am completely clueless.

“That’s women’s work”
MEANS: it’s difficult, dirty, and thankless.

“Will you Marry me?”
MEANS: both of my roommates have moved out, I can’t find the washer, and there’s no peanut butter left.

“It’s a guy thing.”
MEANS: there’s no rational thought pattern connected with it, and you have no chance at all of making it logical.

“Can I help with dinner?”
MEANS: why isn’t it already on the table?

“It would take too long to explain”
MEANS: I have no idea how it works.

“I’m getting more exercise lately”
MEANS: the batteries in the remote are dead.

“We’re going to be late.”
MEANS: I have a legitimate reason for driving like a maniac.

“Take a break, honey, you’re working too hard.”
MEANS: I can’t hear the game over the vacuum cleaner.

“That’s interesting dear.”
MEANS: are you still talking..???

“Honey, we don’t need material things to prove our love.”
MEANS: I forgot our anniversary again.

“You expect too much from me.”
MEANS: You expect me to stay awake?

“It’s really a good movie.”
MEANS: It’s got guns, knives, fast cars and naked women.

“You know how bad my memory is.”
MEANS: I remember the address of the first girl I kissed and the registration number of every car I’ve ever owned but I forgot your birthday.

“I was just thinking about you, and got you these roses.”
MEANS: the girl selling them on the corner was wearing a bikini.

“Oh, don’t fuss, I just cut myself, it’s no big deal.”
MEANS: I have actually got a pretty deep wound but will bleed to death before I admit I’m hurt.

“Hey, I’ve got reasons for what I’m doing.”
MEANS: what did you catch me at?

“She’s one of those rabid feminists.”
MEANS: she refused to make my coffee.

“I heard you.”
MEANS: I haven’t the foggiest clue what you just said, and hope I can fake it well enough so that you don’t spend the next three days yelling at me.

“You know I could never love anyone else.”
MEANS: I am used to the way YOU yell at me, and realize it could be worse.

“You really look terrific in that outfit.”
MEANS: Please don’t try on one more outfit, I’m starving.

“I brought you a present.”
MEANS: It was ‘free ice scraper’ night at the ball game.

“I’m not lost, I know exactly where we are.”
MEANS: No one will ever see us alive again.

“This relationship is getting too serious.”
MEANS: I like you almost as much as I like my truck.

“I don’t need to read the instructions.”
MEANS: I am perfectly capable of screwing it up without printed help.

“I missed you.”
MEANS: I can’t find my sock drawer, the kids are hungry, and we’re out of toilet paper.


Autumn in London

It’s autumn again and to be precise it’s the 35th autumn in my life.

As far as I remember back from my childhood in Bulgaria, I never really liked autumn, because it marked the end of beautiful, hot and carefree summers. It meant that I can no longer take my bag and skip to the beach, spending all day in the sea without the watchful eye of my parents and until my lips became blue and I had drunk more or less half of the Black Sea. I missed the long nights strolling the main streets all the way to the Sea Garden with its beautiful terrace with Viennese bannisters and the most amazing view over Bourgas harbour all the way to Sunny Beach. Summer was the one season we all lived for and partying all the way to October the thought of autumn and winter was so distant as the Antarctic is from Bulgaria.

Until one morning you wake up and feel the cool breeze in you bedroom, sneaking messenger for the winter, and realise that the leaves are fallen and gone way, the crops are reaped and harvest collected and you reach to you wardrobe for the winter coat and it’s smell of anti-moth balls.

That’s way I never liked autumn back then. It was short, unexpected and brutal. I was not prepared for it and it always brought a sense of loss.

Unlike England.

I found myself looking forward to that magical moment of when the leaves start to transform, the feerie of colours, the sensitivity to light and the dark shades of imminent demise were striking. The passionate reds, the royal purples, the distinguished browns make an amazing autumn in England on the backdrop of green fields and well…quite unpredictable skies. The quite and beautiful transition would wave its way from the bottom of the trees, across land, homes and spaces until one day a fierce storm will shake and disturb the idyllic piece, will rage and reign until the last leave has fallen and kidnapped in the hands of its almighty power.

And this is when it starts to smell like Christmas.