NAME IT, READ IT, TUNE IT, PRINT IT [554]

I am not saying that you shouldn’t buy the Canon TR4750i combination inkjet printer and scanner, I am just saying that using one is never straightforward.

I needed to print out some tickets, sent to me by e-mail, for a visit to an art gallery, a standard failsafe for me because the last thing you want to do is rely entirely on your phone to hold the key to visiting places – the same has gone for airline boarding passes. 

I bought my first inkjet printer when I was completing my A-Levels – carrying on into my degree, I remember the satisfaction of submitting coursework and essays without the added worry of finding somewhere to print them first.

However, that was a time before wi-fi. Attempting to print the tickets from my phone via Apple’s AirPrint standard did not pick up the printer at first, necessitating my restarting the printer. Once my phone finally connected, the printer just fed the paper through itself without making a mark. 

Two further attempts at printing, with the same outcome, led me to shine a light, literally, on the LCD panel on the printer – it is not backlit, and I have put the front-loading printer on a shelf due to available space, which obscures my view of this display – to be told that the device needs to complete a firmware update before it will do anything else. You would have thought Canon could have sent such a message to the print properties screen on my phone, or even print it on the paper I was trying to use.

I later turned on my desktop computer, reasoning I can better see and control what is going on, which made no difference to what the printer was doing. The QR codes showing on the tickets were not appearing in the preview screen, which led to my finding they were being treated as part of the document’s background, instead of as the main reason for doing any of this. Finally, having changed all the settings I could see, I printed the tickets off, and got on with my life.

Rather than the usual gripe about inkjet printer cartridges being so expensive that buying a new set of black and colour cartridges could set you back as much as the printer initially did, a comparison per millimetre of ink with the price of champagne, mine is with the actual ability to print. I let two months pass from the purchase of the tickets until I could sum up the energy to print them out, knowing it will never do it how I want the first time.

I think I may have also expected too much from it for the money. The printer loads and feeds out its paper from the front, meaning you can place it on the shelf, but more expensive models have its control screen on the front flap too, meaning you will be able to see if it needs a firmware update. I also have my suspicions that its ability to print double-sided leads it to spew out an empty page if processing the request becomes too difficult.

Admittedly, the scanner was my main reason for this printer’s purchase, intending for it to eliminate more sheets of paper than it will ever be expected to print. Somehow, I have had no software problems there so far, so perhaps Canon is encouraging me to reduce my use of paper?

COME SAIL AWAY WITH ME [482]

Is it truly possible to “get away from it all”? Not by just going on holiday, but by disconnecting from routine, resisting the need to “check in” at anything other than an airport.

 

I am routinely guilty of checking what I will be coming back to after a week off from work, but I cannot bring myself to delete the app we use from my phone - we are not required to use it other than in the office, but the illusion of “advantage” means it remains on my home screen.

 

The allure of an ocean cruise constitutes the nearest I can physically remove myself from the networks that run everyday life, without the ability to travel into outer space. 

 

Transatlantic travel would be even more effective, removing all intermediary ports of call, and any opportunity for your phone to connect to a cellular network - Cunard’s Queen Mary 2, the only liner currently offering such a journey, is an opulent destination unto itself, and a more than adequate distraction. I clearly need a break if I am thinking about it this deeply.

 

Of course, you would then be subject to the temporary network created by the liner, something once solely constructed and run by a ship’s crew, now supplemented by the online purser’s office of a digital planner service available to passengers using the ship’s on-board wi-fi, booking meals and activities to distribute people around the ship. Cunard’s planner, “My Voyage”, is a web-based outlier in an industry that encourages the downloading of an extra app to access all services, but even while a printed daily programme is still provided to guest rooms, and most services on Cunard ships do not require booking, there is the implication that accessing a network will be easier and more convenient for the smooth running of the liner, and of your trip.

 

Or you could “stay in touch with friends and family with one of our on board internet packages, and discover our top tips for using your phone while at sea”. If you choose to add it to your voyage, Cunard charges $20-28 per day to access Elon Musk’s low-earth-orbit satellite network Starlink, charging the higher amount if you want video streaming in addition to what is titled the “Essential Internet Plan”, which is web browsing, e-mail and social media, like you never left port. 

 

Having paid £7.75 per day for five days to continue using my mobile phone in New York in 2023 strikes me as a different proposition because I was on dry land during that time. I could have used a printed map and guide, but it was crucial that I could react at the same speed as the city in which I was located. At sea, it is more possible to set your own pace, and to put a distance between yourself and that which demands attention now but could wait until later. 

 

Buying the sort of internet access you could find on land means you may as well have taken your holiday on land, because it means you are willing not to take a proper break - you remain on standby, in the middle of the ocean. I need to explore whether the lives we lead – the life I lead – is able to give us a proper break from them.

I AM SO SMART, I AM SO SMART [92]

I expect my phone to access the internet, read PDF documents, show me a map of the local area, and count how many steps I walk, but I have no need to use it as a compass, calculator or spirit level, even though I could. In fact, I take some pleasure in having a small pocket calculator in my bag – I can only ask one job of it, but it does that job perfectly. Likewise, I write my articles using a word processor, not a computer.

The AlphaSmart Neo word processor was made from 2004 to 2013, the latest in a line of machines begun in 1993, from a company set up by two former Apple Computer employees. AlphaSmart’s intention was to create an affordable device for learning in classrooms, as multiple processors could be connected for tasks and lessons – the final processor in the line, the Neo 2, could also run class quizzes. However, its main function is as a digital typewriter, small and light enough to carry anywhere, but with a full-sized keyboard, for the simple entry of text onto a LCD screen, automatically saved to be uploaded via USB cable to your main computer later. With no wi-fi, cloud computing or internet to worry about, three AA batteries will last for up to SEVEN HUNDRED HOURS of continuous typing.

I bought my AlphaSmart Neo for £20 on eBay four months ago, and I am still using the original batteries. It is ready to type within three seconds of turning it on, more immediate for entering an idle thought than finding a pen and paper - because I only use the word processing program, the machine will always boot into a cursor flashing ready, provided you remember which of the eight available files you selected last time. Total memory is only 512K, or 0.0005Gb, but that is enough for two hundred A4 pages. You can change the size of the text on screen, but you cannot make it bold, italic or underlined, as you do that when you upload your work later. I can simply connect a USB cable to my main computer, open a word processing program, press “Send,” and my text flies onto the screen, like it is being typed especially quickly – watching the screen fill up with your first draft is very satisfying.

The decline of the AlphaSmart corresponded with the rise of far more flexible tablet computers, and the general reduction in the cost of computing. I have a Bluetooth computer for my iPad, and have written articles on it before, but I personally find it far too easy to flick between apps to find information from a website, only to return to my word processing app after an hour or so has passed. To have a machine that requires you to concentrate, and to keep typing until the job is done, is useful enough, but it requires the maker to forego building a device that can anticipate and accommodate possible future uses. If you don’t need that, it doesn’t matter.

I think there could still be a market for the AlphaSmart, at least in the way I use mine. A recent Kickstarter project was the Hemingwrite, later renamed the Freewrite, essentially a typewriter with an aluminium body, e-ink display, rechargeable battery, wi-fi cloud support and a carry handle, but costing around £400 – the “set your writing free” philosophy of its manufacturer, Astrohaus, is pitched more towards creative writing than to work. What would I do? Take a one-chip microcontroller device, like a Raspberry Pi, load a simple word processor program to it, attach an e-ink or LCD screen, add a keyboard, battery and USB port, put it all into a box the size of a small book, and sell it for about £60. I nearly made one myself, until I found that AlphaSmart made the perfect device years ago.