Me What’s this cybergobble about downloading, Charlie? Here. It says in The Times, so it must be true. They are compiling the charts (I suppose they mean Top of the Pops and that sort of thing) from tracks downloaded, as well as from singles and CDs we buy in the shops. You’re better than me at computers and pop music. You’re better than me at footy, cricket and rugger. Now I come to think about it, there’s not much that you’re not better than me at. But ought I to know about downloading?

Charlie Seasy Peasy. Even you can do it. Downloading just means taking something from somewhere on the net and putting it somewhere else.From the internet into your PC. Like me passing the ball to Yannis, the striker. Look. It tells you in your idiot’s guide. “Downloading means to transfer information from one kind of electronic storage to another, especially from a larger store to a smaller one, such as a file from a network to a personal computer.”

Me I find your way of explaining it easier to understand, Charlie. Netspeak and Textspeak are foreign languages to me. I can manage French and Italian, Greek and Latin, a bit of philosophical German. But even basic Computerspeak is as meaningless to me as Korean. I think that I panic when presented with it. When the wind is southerly, I know a WAP from a WiSP. But why should I want to download anything? What’s in it for me?

Charlie Well, you play music all the time on your CD and old record player. You could transfer your music on to your iPod or BlackBerry. Then you could play the music at the press of a button instead of having to find a CD and play it on your machine. You can’t carry your big old machine around with you. You could play music while you are walking the Russells in the park.

Me I’m not sure that I want to. I’m already doing the crossword in the park. And I’m bumping into trees and joggers. If I were playing Wagner at the same time, I should bump into more of them, and not be able to tell a tree from a jogger. But carry on. No. Don’t tell me. Show me.

Charlie Well, first of all you choose the disc you want to dowload. Bach, I suppose. Then . . . Oh, you can’t do it on your Dell because it has Windows 95. The software is ten years old. You need Windows XP — something stronger. That’s your “minimum systems requirement”. And why is your screen splodged with black stains like Orc’s blood?

Me That’s where your sister Molly threw a dart at the screen while I was momentarily away having a pee. Ten years is out of date! When I joined The Times it was being printed on the same hot metal and linotype system that had been in use for 150 years. Today there is a quantum leap in new infotech every ten years. Frightening.

Charlie Wicked! Look. Do it on my computer. See. You put your disc in the computer. Clickety-click. Press on that icon. And you have stored it in my PC. It’s the same principle as when you tape concerts from Radio 3. But it’s much quicker, and easier to retrieve. And you don’t have all that mess you get when one of your tapes begins to unravel.

Me Like Laocoon and his boys getting knotted up by snakes and cursing horribly. Never mind. I sort of see how I could store my own discs. But how can I get hold of alien music? How can I buy new tracks, and download them, and so make my little contribution to the charts?

Charlie First you log on to a music channel. Look. apple.com/uk/itunes. You need one of two platforms: Windows or Mac.

Me What’s a platform? Is that like a Big Mac?

Charlie No, don’t fool around. It’s Apple Macintosh. Then you tap in your e-mail address. Then your password in that box. What’s your password?

Me I always use technical terms of prosody for passwords. Names of verses. This month it’s “choriamb”. So tap that in.

Charlie And up pops your menu with Library, Party Shuffle and a dozen other options. You are now entering the virtual music shop. In the search box tap the name of the group whose music you want to buy and download. Say U2. And look, here scrolls all their tracks. Which shall we have? Hallelujah Here She Comes. Click. And Love is Blind. There you are. They are in your PC now. You can play them whenever you want. Now let’s try Busted. What would you like from them? Sleeping with the Light On and Busted to the Floor. Each track costs 79p. Would you like Atomic Kitten?

Me Bustard? That’s a bird isn’t it? That’s probably enough to be going on with. Between you and me, Charlie, I would pay rather more than 79p not to have to listen to U2 screaming anything. Let us preserve Atomic Kitten for another day.

Charlie Now I can arrange you a playlist. That’s a compilation. A selection of your favourite tracks that you can play on different occasions. One for when you’re feeling sad. Another for playing during dinner parties. Another for when you are going to sleep.

Me Do I really need that? Unlike your generation, I don’t feel the need for non-stop music. Nor for non-stop conversations on the mobile phone. I find music in restaurants vile, and mobile-phone chatter on trains irritating. Pascal said that the eternal silence of space terrified him. But we now know that cyberspace is not silent, but perpetual, infernal din.

Charlie But look, you can download your kind of music as well. This virtual music shop sells classical as well as pop.

Me Apollo and Saint Cecilia, so it does! Download me sweet classical Emma Kirkby singing English songs on classical themes; and the St Petersburg Quartet playing Shostakovich; and Von Karajan conducting Mozart’s flute and harp concerto. There is more in this downloading lark than was dreamed of in my philosophy. Thank you, Charlie.

GO ON, TRY IT FOR YOURSELF