A Sunday exercise in Sherlockian investigation.
Suddenly Malcolm's aged and usually-reliable iBook began playing up.
For no accountable reason it was registering an endless random input, mainly commas interspersed with "r".
So, check out if the keyboard is jammed.
Since this is the original keyboard, now five years old, that would not surprise. Keyboard out, try an external keyboard. Actually, try two in succession. Same fault.
Oh dear, what used to an I/O problem.
So, let's rebuild the whole disk. Run a disk utility check; all well. Do a disk erase and reload from the Leopard master (G4s don't take MacOs 10.6 Snow Leopard). All well until the set-up screen. As soon as the first key was entered, same fault: ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Umm. This looks critical.
Well, let's go through the process again, just in case.
Meanwhile, crank up the 15in G4 Powerbook (dodgy DVD and lousy battery charging: Apple say an excessively-expensive motherboard problem) inherited from the Pert Young Piece when she went MacBook.
Hell's teeth! What's this? Yes: ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Again, rip out the extended mouse and keyboard, which, self-evidently, must be the cause. Try again: ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
No: this is impossible.
Ah! what's this?
The Lady in Malcolm's life had discarded her inoperative Bluetooth keyboard (an incident involving a coffee cup), and lodged it under Malcolm's desk. It must have taken a kick or whatever, and turned itself on.
Extract the batteries therefrom, kill the Bluetooth connection, ... and Robert is most definitely brother to one's parent.
Incredible.
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