The girlfriend, the Olympics and the TV antenna
August 8th 2008 22:26
Nike, the Greek Goddess of strength, speed and victory - I don't think she likes me
It is 8am Friday morning, the auspicious eighth day of the eighth month of the year 2008, and my girlfriend isn't feeling the love.
You'd think, if you believe in omens or kismet or fortune cookies, that I was destined not to watch the Olympics opening ceremony. It's not that I haven't tried. It's just that, despite having a fancy television antenna on the roof, despite having an antenna connection point clearly visible in the living room, and despite having a television which is bigger than the flat I lived in in Hong Kong, I can't get Channel 7.
This, for anyone living in America or perhaps in my old Hong Kong flat, is the Australian network carrying tonight's gala event.
Trying to connect to Channel 7 has become a convoluted story of effort thwarted at every turn, although, according to some comments this morning, that's not how my girlfriend describes it. Something about a six-week saga of sloth.
That is just so unfair and, personally, I think I have been targeted by Nike. She, as you may know, was the Greek Goddess of strength, speed and victory. She made a name for herself influencing all these ancient aspiring athletes, and then she started a sports shoe company. Her best mate on Mount Olympus, apparently, was Athenes, the Goddess of war. It was Athenes, rather than Nike, that confronted me this morning.
The thing is, we moved into a new house six weeks ago. And since then I have, intermittently I admit, tried to make the television and the antenna talk to each other. Unsuccessfully. Ran the cable from the socket to the TV and nothing happened. Ran the cable from socket to the input on the fancy, surge-proof power board and nothing happened. I even tried running the cable through the VCR like the good old days when I was a teenager and all this stuff magically made sense. Nothing happened.
My girlfriend really, really, really wants to watch the Olympic opening ceremony tonight, with me, and pop corn, on paddock screen.
But we can't get Channel 7, even through Foxtel. Our new house connects to Foxtel via satellite rather than the other way, whatever that is, and Foxtel and Channel 7 "don't have a provider agreement for satellite". That's what Foxtel told me when I rang to ask where my Channel 7 is.
So here it is, the eighth of the eighth, oh eight, the auspicious date chosen by the Beijing Olympic organising committee for the opening ceremony, and we don't have Channel 7.
My girlfriend suggested that today, finally, at last, maybe I could ring someone to help? There was a nasty upward inflection at the end of the sentence which took it out of the realm of suggestion and into the realm of edict.
I Googled. I dialled. I got Richard. Miraculously, Richard came almost immediately, maybe because I rang him at about eight minutes past eight am. Richard explained that I needed a booster thingummy on my amplifier wotsit, and installed one for me, and charged me $140, and now we have Channel 7.
And domestic peace and harmony. And the Olympic opening ceremony to look forward to.
I still think Nike had it in for me. But she met her match. Praise Richard.
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