Computer-free and proud of it.

Friends told me I'd go cold turkey without a computer. That after three days I'd be gibbering away and chewing the TV remote. That I'd know the entire cast of Corrie, Stendas, and Da Bill. That I'd be Mr Couch Spud before it got to Saturday.

But I'm cool. I think I'm working the twelve step programme quite well. "My name is Clint Wilderbeast and I'm a computerholic" (round of applause).

Our lass though is showing signs of getting annoyed with the situation.

"I just need to log on to check my email..."

"Gwon then..."

Won't be much longer..."

"You've been three bloody HOURS man...Gerroff...What's this? Why have you reset my homepage to Soccernet! You're on thin ice, you are buster..."

Trouble is, with a borrowed computer, the damn thing figures out that you're new. It tries to be nice, is on its best behaviour and lets you reconfigure its Outlook and add a few sites to the favourites, but then it gets carried away with itself, gets all excited and crashes.

That's generally when I get it.

"That computer works perfectly fine for months and months, then you use it for five minutes and it breaks!"

So I 'm back to Christmas paperbacks and yesterdays paper, blissfully unaware of the havoc I've left on the lasses hard drive.

It's my fault that a ton of spyware programs have somehow found their way onto the darn thing, that suddenly she's got a porno premium dial up kicking in, some huge MP3 downloading from Caracas and a bad fake Kylie Nudie as wallpaper. I SWEAR all I've done is look up some Robert Browning and William Blake and listen to Radio Three.

Anything that goes wrong on that machine is generally my fault. Usually I looked it with a scowl on my face, or surprised it with a CD it wasn't expecting, or went to a website with too many long words. Apparently it's no wonder my machine croaked the other day. I gave it too much to think about.

You've got to be gentle with computers.

Where I went wrong is getting addicted to the Radio One Radio Player and playing repeats of The Lock Up and Gilles Peterson and the Essential Mix too loud and too long. I should stick with a nice Bob Harris show, and perhaps a Beginners Guide to Reggae and go for a cup of tea and a nice sit down. Definitely none of that Eighties Matchbox B-line Disaster stuff.

Where I went wrong is pressing the keys on the keyboard too hard, spilling too much Becks Dark on it, dropping it on the kitchen floor too many times, and trying to break the world record for simultaneous progammes running at once.

So it seems I can't play chess, run live chat, download old punk rock, listen to internet radio, check my email and eat a Pizza Con Quatro Formaggio with it all going pear shaped.

And of course - it did.

I pick up the poor bedraggled lappy from the Mac store tomorrow. I can't wait!

B