Zoom

Zoom!

You chased the day away.
High noon, the moon and stars came out to play
Then my whole world went zoom
High as a rainbow as we went flying by.

It’s just rainbow season. It’s not a message.

Why didn’t we listen to Fat Larry? So prophetic.

When you are young, you laugh at older people’s struggles to get to grips with new technology. I remember secretly laughing at my father-in-law when he marvelled at my husband’s new stereo stacking system, with graphic equaliser.
“What do you want all those knobs for?”
I thought my parents were more technically competent. My dad completely embraced computers and mobile phones and even taught me how to mute the family WhatsApp while he was dying because the pinging was doing his head in.
However, last night we reached the stage of watching home movies. My parents’ incompetence with technology became clear. We were watching my son’s nursery school sports day. He was very cute, in a top that matched his hair, trying really hard but always coming last. Then the camera switched to show the sky, the grass and the boats on the river before swiping across a line of ladies and then filming the sky again. The sound in the background made it clear that this was the mum’s race and my parents were struggling to use the camera.
“That button is the zoom,” someone said.
And we were suddenly focused in on a tall lady in a blue top.
“Ju came second,” the noise in the background said.
The lady in the blue top was very athletic and did come second but she wasn’t me.

We laughed.

But I have some sympathy because I fear I have become that old and fixed in my attitude to zoom (other video conferencing platforms are available).

So many people are ‘hanging out’ virtually on these platforms. The zoom hangover has become a real problem. My daughter does quizzes, bingo and just drinks and chats with her mates. My son plays D&D and laughs a lot with his deep hearty chuckle. The staff room is virtually open for tea and cake on a Friday afternoon.

I like the idea in theory but in practice it horrifies me: a whole evening of being distracted by your own image. My friends and I have occasionally mentioned the idea of a zoom sparkle club in our texts and messages.
“We could drink wine and chat.”
“Can I have gin?”
“Julia, you could even have bubbles in your water.”

I thought about doing a quiz to make it easier but I’m quite lazy. Sometimes I think you need a focus.
Then I remembered the brilliant game show idea we had when a friend’s husband had brought an endoscope online because he thought it would be ‘useful’.
“We should get together virtually for a game of ‘Whose Orafice’” I suggested.
My friend wasn’t sure he knew where the endoscope had gone but thought it would be a good idea.
“The only problem will be finding a time,” I said, “Because I am very busy now. Thursday is clapping and Jay’s quiz, Friday is Monty time and Saturday is musical theatre night. How about Tuesday? We could do ‘See you next Tuesday for Who Lives in an  Orafice like this.’”

If it ever happens I fear I will be the one who has their camera pointing up their nose, or the one who forgets and takes their phone to the loo with them, or the one who drops a peanut down their top and removes it by lifting up said top and rummaging around the bra on camera because that’s what you’d do if you were at home.