Never Too Late To Explore - 2. Connected

The snowdrops looked so lovely in the early morning sunshine, their shiny white heads bobbing in the slight breeze. At the end of the following week, Eric stood at the sink, peering out of the kitchen window at the raised flower bed directly opposite. They'd caught his eye as he carried his empty breakfast things back to put them in to soak. It was one of those small things which helped to make his day better.

After his new path, the trainee college gardeners did another good job with the flower beds. Where possible, the wooden retainers were built up off the ground to a height where he could reach the beds without having to bend too much. The lads did that first before they turned their attention to the path. Then, once the soil had settled, they came back to plant cultivated bulbs – the sort that plant centres sold which were almost ready to flower.

The beds made much more sense than having so much grass which he wasn't able to keep under control. Come the better weather, he looked forward to doing some planting. Nothing major – only some cheap bedding plants, but even those would bring some colour into his view. Perhaps he might even try growing some of his own veg? The gardeners left a couple of the beds without any bulbs. He'd have to give that some thought. He wouldn't choose anything that needed digging – any garden work like that had been beyond him for a number of years. His arthritis always played up when he stayed outdoors for any length of time.

Thinking of the students brought one of them in particular back to his mind's eye. It was strange … Now he was being more open about his sexuality to himself, Eric found himself admiring the occasional man who took his fancy. On the telly, in real life, it didn't matter. It was as if his eyes were seeing differently, somehow. Previously, he'd submerged his sexual feelings so completely, attraction to anybody had been impossible, for so very long.

In a different time, the student's slim, supple, yet tough body coupled with his shock of thick, brown hair, would've snared Eric's interest. Not that he would ever have dared make an advance. Still, he got enjoyment out of watching the young man at work. He seemed more reserved than the other lads, not joining in their banter or jokes unless he was called on directly.

Eric looked away from the window and sighed. What if he were to be a young gay man now? He'd most likely still be as socially inept as he'd ever been, but at least he'd have a chance. He wouldn't have to look over his shoulder for a snoop, or the police. Not that he'd had any direct experience of trying to meet with other gay men when he was young. Living in a small, rural town? As far as he knew, there was just him. Every other person was straight. And he'd never moved away: living in a city was unthinkable. Even now, apart from the lads who befriended him, he didn't know anybody in the town who might be gay.

Chatting with Andy and Adam, he learnt there was now even a gay club in their local city. And another couple of establishments who didn't care who their clients were – straight, gay, they weren't bothered. Perhaps it was the college and university students? The young people on the TV seemed much less rigid in their ideas than older folks. Eric thought for a moment. Maybe he'd be well advised to follow their example? Or try to, anyway. Would he dare go into one of the clubs? Not on his own. Never. He'd be laughed out of the room in two seconds flat. With a younger guide like Andy? Maybe, briefly … sometime far off in the future.

Shaking himself out of the blue mood that suddenly descended, Eric went back to studying the snowdrops. The crocuses next to them would be flowering very soon. The snowdrops were perfect: shape, colour, everything. Maybe he could try to capture them using his Christmas drawing pencils? He'd yet to open the gift from Adam and Andy. In a way, he was scared to. What if he'd forgotten everything he ever knew about sketching? And would his fingers be able to hold the pencils properly? Even though he was self-taught, Eric thought his pictures were pretty good. He shrugged. The only way to find out was to give them a whirl – he'd soon discover one way or the other.

Eric looked up at the kitchen clock. He'd got as far as retrieving the pencils and paper, but he hadn't actually got going yet. He spent several minutes looking closely at the flowers without committing anything to paper. The pencils remained in their packet. His concentration wasn't good – he was only killing time until a telecoms service engineer came to connect him to the internet. 'Sometime before 1pm' left a lot of time to be filled. He slowly headed back into the living room when the phone rang. He hurried over to where it was, wondering if it was the engineer calling to cancel.

“Hello?”

Hi, Eric. It's Andy.

“Oh … Morning, Andy. I thought it might be the engineer.”

They haven't arrived yet?

“No … There's still plenty of time.”

I picked up your laptop a few minutes ago, but I've got to go and see a client before I can come to you. It'll be late afternoon – 'bout four?

“I need to get some food in after the engineer has left. I've run out of milk and bread. You'll have your key, so let yourself in if I haven't got back.”

OK. This is a big day for you, Eric, isn't it?

Eric frowned. “It feels like I'm about to take a leap into the unknown.”

Don't worry. I said I'll help you get set-up before I leave. And I or Adam are always on the end of a phone line if you get stuck. Or there's your friend from the café.

“I suspect I'll need all of you, more than once. You might end up regretting making that offer.”

Andy laughed. I don't think so. See you later, Eric.

“Bye, Andy.”

As soon as he put the phone down, the doorbell sounded.

Eric watched with interest as the telecoms service engineer bustled into the living room and started to get him set up for the internet. The young man knelt down near where his phone was and began working on something at the level of the skirting board. From his chair, Eric leant over as far as he could to one side, trying to see what was going on. After a series of noises – he listened to each one closely – the young man stood up again and turned to him.

“Haven't seen a phone socket that old in ages.”

“Is it a problem?” Eric didn't want any last minute hitches.

“No, no. It only needs replacing by something more modern. Won't be minute – I'll just get the replacement from the van.”

The young man strode across the room and headed off down the path, leaving the front door ajar. Eric debated getting up to close it or not bothering. He decided the door could stay as it was – the young man wasn't going to be very long. The cold and damp were starting to creep in by the time Eric heard the engineer's returning footsteps. The man strode back inside, once more leaving the door open.

The older man frowned. “Close the door behind you, lad.”

“Sorry?” He stopped in his tracks.

“The front door. I'm too old to be getting up and down all the time and the cold air's coming in.”

The young man turned and looked. “Oh … Yeah.”

He closed the door with an energy which made Eric jump. The older man picked up the previous day's free newspaper and tried to concentrate on it. However, the noises from the work meant that he was continually distracted. After reading the same paragraph three times and still having no idea of its content, Eric gave up. Over the past few months, he'd come to regard feeling excited almost as something normal. If someone had told him that a year ago, he'd have replied they were mad. More had happened to him since the autumn than during the rest of his life almost.

The other man stood up from the region of the skirting board where he'd been installing whatever the new thing was.

He held the original, elderly phone socket in his hand and was inspecting it closely. “Almost a museum piece, this thing. Anyway, you're now a full member of the twenty-first century. I've installed your new DSL modem and tested it. Now I need your internet router. You had it delivered yet?”

Eric blinked. The man had installed what? And what else was he was supposed to have? Eric shook his head. He was going to need that new computer vocabulary sooner rather than later.

“Sorry? Not sure what you're talking about.”

“When you signed up for our broadband, we should've sent you a router. It'll be in a squarish box.”

“Err …” After a moment or two, Eric remembered taking in a parcel from the postman one day the previous week. That in itself was unusual; and he recalled the curious shape. When he phoned later, Andy told him it was important, so he put it somewhere safe. Which was where … He frowned. “Just a minute.”

The old man got up and shuffled into the kitchen, still thinking. Wasn't it bloody typical? He'd decided on a safe place, and now? For all he knew, he just put it down somewhere and then absentmindedly wandered off. The joys of being old. He opened the cupboards, one by one, until he struck lucky. There it was, still unopened in its cardboard box. Eric sighed. Why did he think putting it in with the spuds was a good idea? If he knew the engineer needed it, he would've started looking earlier on. At least he'd found it now.

“This it?” Eric handed over the box.

“Yep, that's it.”

The young man ripped open the packaging and extracted something made of black plastic, together with its cables. Eric was relieved. Otherwise he had visions of the engineer going away and not coming back for weeks. He stood and watched as the other man plugged in the router, connected it to whatever he'd called the other thing, and turned it on. This was a rite of passage. This was him, Eric Whitehouse, joining the computer age. Only however many years late. Eric allowed himself a wry smile.

“Wish my nan would learn how to use a computer …” The young man stood by the table, not doing anything other than glancing at his phone every few seconds. Waiting for something to happen perhaps? “She's older than you, though: eighty this year. I would teach her how to use one if she showed any interest. Doesn't think it's for her.”

“Hmm …” Eric grimaced. “That would've been me up 'til a couple of months ago. Lucky a couple of friends of mine made me see sense.”

The young man shrugged. “I keep telling her what she's missing out on, but she doesn't care. That's my nan for you.”

“Well, take it from me – if I can learn, so can she. And I left school at fifteen.”

Eric seldom mentioned his time at school to anyone. It was ancient history, and not a period of his life he wanted to dwell on. He sighed. That went for a large part of his life. Anyway, he didn't mind this time around. He almost had the zeal of the converted, even though he was only starting out. Computers – yet another thing that would've seemed completely beyond him six months ago.

“Thanks. I'll tell her that the next time I see her. My nan's still all there, bright as a button on her good days.” The engineer inspected the internet router which was perched next to the phone. His expression was one of satisfaction. “OK … this has switched on, and set itself up properly.” He looked at his phone again and tapped the screen several times. “Yep, there it is. Ready and waiting.”

For his computer, Eric assumed. He had no idea how the young man knew from his phone what was going on. More mysteries of the internet.

The engineer looked at him. “You got someone to help you get started?”

Eric nodded. “Yes, a friend who helps me out with a lot of things.” Being able to say that made him feel good. Protected, in a way.

“Great. That's it. We're done. Any problems: the helpline and other contact details are on the website and they'll be in your confirmation emails.”

Eric remembered getting those. Long, official emails he had to spend several minutes reading, trying to get his head round the all the unfamiliar words and ideas. He was careful not to delete them, although Andy kept on telling him that deleting things wasn't the end of the world. They could be brought back or something like that.

He dragged himself back to what was going on. “Thanks. You've done a good job there.”

“My pleasure. I'll definitely tell my nan about you.”

He watched as the young man gathered his stuff together and left, shutting the front door with as much force as before. Eric sat down again. Now for the next stage; after he'd been out for his bit and pieces of shopping, of course.

“OK. That's you connected to the internet.” Andy smiled at Eric. “I'll let you have the honour of opening the first webpage.”

Andy sat back in his chair, having passed the precious laptop back to Eric. The old man sat on one of the old dining chairs at a small table which he'd bought specially. Finding room for it gave Eric a new reason to throw out some more of his old stuff. The living room looked positively tidy compared with the time he made his first visit. Andy smiled at the memory. His client looked tired. Not surprising, given they'd spent the last couple of hours getting the computer set up, and then he took some time to remind Eric of the absolute basics. Even turning the machine on and off was new to him: using the library computers, he never had to do it before.

He looked on as Eric laboriously typed in a web address. Showing him bookmarking and such would wait for another day. After a few seconds, a look of satisfaction appeared on the older man's face.

Eric looked up. “I've done it. Look! … Or maybe that should be, we've done it?” He moved the computer so Andy could see the proof.

It was the front page of PinkNews: the site which had started Eric off on his journey to buy his own computer. Andy nodded – it was entirely appropriate.

“Well done. And if you want to keep that page while opening up another one?”

Eric frowned with concentration. He clicked, using the separate mouse he'd fitted for him, and swore. “Damn! Oh …”

Andy heard a sigh of exasperation as the older man started typing again, one finger at a time. Sounded as though Eric had closed the browser by mistake. He would do that any number of times before everything became second nature. Andy smiled to himself. He did it often enough – on his laptop, tablet, and phone. It was an easy mistake.

“Everything OK?”

Eric was concentrating too hard to reply. He did a final click, and stared at the screen as if he didn't quite believe what he was seeing.

He looked away briefly. “Yes, now I've got the … the …”

“Browser?”

“Yes, the browser back. Will I ever manage to memorise these words?”

Andy smiled at him. “Yeah, after a time. But it's not as important as actually being able to use the computer. Well, I think we'll leave it there for tonight. Are you safe to be left, I wonder?”

Eric sniffed. “Most likely not, but that doesn't matter. I think I'm pretty much computered out for today. Thanks, Andy. As usual, you've given up so much time for me.”

“It's been a pleasure, and it's part of my job, you know. Getting you fit for living in today's world.” Andy stood up. “I'll phone sometime tomorrow to see how you're progressing. Adam and I are viewing wedding venues so you'll have to survive without me …”

Eric shrugged. “I've managed the rest of my life without computers, so if I do something stupid, it'll have to wait. Night, Andy, and thanks again.”

“Have fun!”

After Andy had gone, Eric allowed himself another five minutes at the computer. There was so much to learn, to discover. Why had he left it so long?