To Be Frank, by Frank Edmonds, April 28, 2015

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Ever since I started writing this column, I’ve referred to The Other Half as ... well, The Other Half.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. So imagine my surprise when I bumped into one of my former Lynn News colleagues in the early days ... who then went off on what I can only describe as a full-blown feminist rant about it.

Woah! Steady on there, Madam! I think you’re missing the point, here! It’s supposed to be affectionate! Do you seriously think I’d refer to The Other Half in a negative way? And besides, don’t you think I value my life?! The thrust of her argument seemed to revolve around the use of the word “half,” and the implication in her eyes that it conveyed a sense of “lesser”.

The Other Half herself couldn’t understand where my feminist-minded former colleague was coming from.

“I take it to mean an equal half of a partnership” she said. Well, exactly! And as long as she was happy with it that was all that mattered. If anyone else wanted to take it the wrong way, that was their lookout.

However, recently I’ve been thinking that I really ought to revise the name after all.

I’d been having a few computer problems. Yes, I know. Again. But then something seems to go wrong every other day at the moment, so it’s difficult to escape it. This time, the computer refused to scan.You actually get a message come up on the screen, telling you to switch the printer off and switch it on again. Wow! Impressive, huh? They pay computer programmers money to write messages like that, you know. Still, it does the trick. So you sigh, do what it says, and it’s all right again.

Not this time. Nothing I could do had any effect whatsoever. With increasing desperation I tried any idea I could think of, many of them quite stupid, but hey, the normal solution isn’t exactly sophisticated, is it? But nothing worked.

I was one step away from head-butting the screen, when The Other Half said: “Have you tried turning the router off and on again?”

No, I hadn’t. It didn’t seem logical. It was nothing to do with internet or wi-fi. The scanner was connected to the computer by a cable. But hey, I was desperate. I’d try anything if I thought it might work. I tried it. It worked.

Instantly, I was down on my knees, waving my arms in a Wayne’s World “We’re not worthy!” fashion. I declared there was officially no longer any need to wait until our five-year-old granddaughter was a little older so she could be our go-to girl for all IT, as most young people are these days. I had my very own IT girl under our roof!

I was telling a friend about this, and she said: “I told you she is your better half, and that proves it!”

Then the halfpenny dropped. Oh lor, I thought. Will I have to stop calling her The Other Half ... and start calling her The Better Half instead?!