‘If this madness goes on, I will not be able to leave my house without downloading the app,’ I told my friend, who had been exhorting me to download the app for something.
In fact, I had been trying to book a fun ride. Every year, my horsey friends and I go on these cross country jollies during the summer months. And every year all we do is ring or email the secretary of the relevant riding club, say we are coming, send a cheque, get our start time and turn up in our trailer on the appointed day.
Not any more. The riding clubs have discovered apps. And so now, when one tries to register to go on a fun ride, the antithesis of fun begins.
You cannot ring or email anyone to book anything anymore, let’s face it. For pretty much everything, including all horse events from showjumping to fun rides, you have to go to a website. The one for horse events is called… wait for it… horsemonkey.com.
Oh, kill me now, I thought, as I logged on to this exercise in 21st-century torment.
All my friends have registered, so on I went, encouraged by them to just log on, just enter my details, and just pay online. And if I couldn’t be bothered with any of that, then, as one friend so hilariously told me, I could — drum roll — download the app.
Seriously? You think it will be easier for a woman in midlife with two kinds of failing eyesight (I can’t see either up close or far away) to input every detail including her inside leg measurement into a small phone touchscreen? Do you mean me to register as Nafoffa Shite riding a horse called Farty?
‘Do not tell me to use the app,’ I told this friend.
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