On the TV screen a little circle had been rotating aimlessly for minutes. Filippo pushed his hair out of his eyes and got out of bed. Now this. He’d had his Playstation for three weeks and now it wasn’t recognizing games. Cursing, he took out the disc and pushed it back several times. No joy. On consulting Youtube it was soon clear what the problem was – a dirty laser lens. Which you could clean yourself. Bang went the lazy Sunday he was planning on. Grumpily, he unplugged his games computer and went downstairs. In his own room he would only lose the screws amidst the piles of paper, clothes and junk. ‘What are you doing?’ asked Vera, coming in an hour later. Filippo had now unscrewed the cover and as watching a film to see what to do next. ‘Cleaning my Playstation.’ ‘Wow, you are going to open it up yourself. That’s daring of you.’ Vera made tea and watched with interest over her breakfast. The glass in front of Filippo filled up with screws until the workings of the machine were visible. ‘This is the hard part. I mustn’t break any of these small cables’. At that very moment Willem-Jan emerged from his room. He stretched and wandered, yawning, into the living room. Vera saw Filippo frown. ‘Filippo is repairing your old Playstation himself,’ she said. ‘Cool, eh?’Willem-Jan came over to the sofa. ‘You mean someone from the country that produced the Fyra is opening up my old Playstation? Su-per-cool, yes!’ He shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee. Filippo didn’t take the bait but slowed down noticeably. Everyone watched over their breakfasts as he cleaned the lens with a bit of alcohol on a cotton bud. Then he carefully put the whole thing back together again. By early afternoon he had the casing back on. ‘That went well, I guess.’ By the time he came back from putting away the screwdriver, Willen-Jan had quickly printed out the Fyra logo and stuck it on the Playstation. ‘Ha ha,’ said Filippo sarcastically. But he broke out into a sweat. What if it didn’t work? Full of curiosity, his housemates followed him upstairs. Filippo quickly connected up the computer and pressed Play. Nothing. ‘Fuuuuck.’ ‘You have to plug it into the socket, Dumbo,’ said Vera. A red-faced Filippo switched on the current. It felt as though the computer deliberately started up as slowly as it possibly could. Carefully, he inserted a DVD. The disc began to turn. Carried on turning. And it was off. ‘Yes!’ yelled Filippo. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the Fyra will arrive shortly at Wageningen Central Station.’
’