Falling at the first hurdle

Technology and I have never really got on. I joke that I struggle with using a cash point but that isn't really that far from the truth, as anyone who has had the misfortune to witness me drunkenly entreating an ATM to, "Just spit out the card, bitch," will verify. An acquaintance of my mother's once had us all in hysterics by claiming that she couldn't use the new vending machines at the leisure centre as they had "a computer" on them. What she meant, of course, was that they had a simple keyboard and display and this was enough to send her into a confused panic. I laughed, but really I'm only one step above her in the technologically-ignorant ladder.

Growing up with a computer genius for a brother, I was never allowed near the family computer if it showed even the smallest sign of doing something untoward. Rather than learning important skills by idly poking around until an error message went away, I was whisked from the room while Robert typed and muttered. And, as is the way with computer geeks, when I asked what he'd done I either got a string of incomprehensible (to the idiot like me) jargon or a shug of the shoulders and a curt "nothing much".

My attitude to computers and technology has become not dissimilar to what I imagine people's attitude towards the world was pre-science. Technology is a confusing force that I must rely on yet will never fully understand. My version of the rain dance is holding the off button down, removing the laptop battery or resetting the wireless router. When none of this works I am an absolute nightmare for anyone with any computer know-how. In a blind panic I gabble, "My laptop, it's done a thing, the thing won't work, it's making a noise!"

I think the cruel god technology senses my inherent weakness and uses it to mock me. The night before last, my laptop abruptly turned itself off and refused to turn back on. When the usual rituals failed, I summoned the high priest, Robert. He sighed at my gibbering, poked about a bit and pronounced it unfixable by human hand. It would need to be taken to the PC World shrine. It smelled like something had blown and was making a worrying internal clicking sound. The next morning, having left it to cool down, there was still no joy. Visions of expensive repairals and lost work swam through my head. I carried it despondently to Bloke's house, sure he was going to look at it and tell me it was gone forever. He took the back off to have a preliminary look and saw nothing immediately wrong. He then tried turning it on. "Beep", the machine greeted him merrily and on it came. The XP logo sneered at me, "What do you mean I won't work?"

So, I have internet again, although I'm typing this on one of Bloke's computers as I'm not talking to the laptop. We may later come to some form of detente but for now I'm taking it personally.