Those VHS Tapes ..........

Within a few days of my third anniversary of retiring from BT, I am in paid employment again which will shock many of my friends who had heard me say, I’d never lift another finger to earn cash. Not because I am filthy rich (if only) but because I absolutely love doing nothing.

But I’m afraid to say, my ‘new job’ has not met with universal approval from ‘her indoors’, J, who has been in a right strop ever since she found out I was going to earn a few bob doing a bit of, how can I call it, a bit of work on the wrong side of the moral compass.

You see, I was browsing AngloInfo the other day ( http://riviera.angloinfo.com/) when I spotted a request for someone with the appropriate skills to convert VHS cassette tapes onto DVDs.

Now, I’ve been doing this for the last couple of years, working my way through countless family holidays and tapes of Rangers FC when they were a feared footballing force, and converting them onto DVD. Cassette tapes degrade over time so it’s a useful exercise to put them onto a newer medium and as I’ve got the equipment to do it, it was a no brainer.

A few e-mails later, the lady from Angloinfo and I had agreed a price and a place to meet (all very Spooks-like), and the family holiday tapes were duly handed over. All well and good, but not back at Chez Cupples/Hellon/Evans!

The problem was that I just can’t resist winding up my missus. When she got wind of my ‘little earner’ she wanted all the details so I told her that I’d come into contact with a local swingers group who wanted all their ‘home movie’ cassettes converted to disks.

Well, that was it! ‘You’re not bringing that STUFF into MY house’, was the immediate reaction. ‘If you think I’m going to allow MY DVD recorder to be used for that FILTH, you’re mistaken.’ (the capitals are points of emphasis as shouted by J). ‘But we might spot somebody we know’, I protested. ‘That’s even worse’, she wailed.

I let the ‘rumble in the jungle’ carry on for a few days and it wasn’t mentioned until last Thursday morning when, unusually for me, I got up, showered, shaved and put on some decent clothes.

‘And where do you think you’re going?’ said J aware that ‘the transaction’ was approaching. ‘I’m off to meet the representatives of ‘the club’ so they can pass over the tapes’, I replied. ‘Where?’ was the demand.  ‘In the car park – well away from the village police station. I’ve said we should meet at the back of the car park and for them to pass over the tapes in a plastic bag so as not to draw attention to what’s going on’, I said.

Glowers all round but when she sneaked a look at the first tape I was converting (yeah - she sneaked a look - I knew she would)  and saw a delightful young girl playing the piano and a family having lunch, she stormed off, no doubt aggrieved that I’d got one over on her – again!

 It’s just so easy! Doh!