When I was about five, my dad tried to teach me how to play chess. It didn’t work out so well, mostly because my dad’s idea of teaching was to beat me in three moves. I put up with this for about five minutes before I gave up and ran away from the chessboard in tears. Since that incident, I’ve refused to play chess. Hate the game, in fact.
But… while cooped up inside the Victorian house, with nothing much to do, I discovered that one of the few games on my computer happens to be chess (The other is some Tony Hawk skateboarding game). And so I started to play.
For the first few games, the computer, like my dad, beat me in about three moves. But now, I’m happy to say that it takes at least seven moves for the computer to beat me. Yeah, that’s right. Seven.
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