My Blackberry has been misbehaving – or, more specifically the scroll button has gone awol and refused to function. It has now been despatched for repair. The helpful young man at O2 says it will go to a UK based “repair facility” but I know that in reality a guy in a loincloth is running across Europe and Asia, through urban hellholes, across scorching deserts and over cloud piercing mountain ranges to deliver it to an inscrutable phonesmith in a secluded village in a far corner of China. Breaking from his study of Confucius and his imparting of the secrets of kung fu to silent acolytes he will conquer the recalcitrant scroll button with sharp blows from the edge of his hand and the perfume from an infusion of lotus blossom.

Meanwhile I must go cold turkey until the loin clothed messenger returns to Crawley Town Centre.

Well, not exactly cold turkey. The chap at O2 revived my ancient steam driven Motorola mobile and, after a frantic search around the house I recovered the appropriate charger so I will have some sort of connection on the move…but, how humiliating, just calls and text…no e mails, no tweets, no BB messenger, no street cred…

Just to think, this time last year I didn’t have a Blackberry. Indeed we used to make rather caustic comments to the younger members of our family about “being on that Blackberry all the time…”

How times and circumstances change…

But, do you know the worst thing about this whole scenario? The Lovely Mrs P’s BB is still working fine and this evening I will have to try to look elsewhere as she checks her e mail, sends her texts and – the unkindest cut of all – SCROLLS around with effortless ease….

BTW – I don’t feel so bad now I realise that a certain member of the royal family shares my pain….