Nobody can call me a Luddite. About five years ago I bought a computer in a Christmas sale in Tottenham Court Road from PC World, a bargain at £700, reduced from whatever they said it was reduced from. I was so pleased: I’d joined the human race and the 21st century.

It still stands there, brand new, smelling of plastic, smiling at my profligacy, unused, unloved. It takes up so much space as well.

I didn’t realise it came with towers the size of Canary Wharf. But I can’t bin it, can I, not after all that money?

I found it so slow to heat up and use, so awkward having to contend with things like attachments, whatever they are, and my fingers couldn’t manage the keys, so I went back to my trusty steam Amstrad PCW, which I have had for about 20 years.

I even managed to upgrade my Amstrad, when 3-in disks became obsolete. I installed a 5-in disk drive, all on my own: I locked the doors, turned off the phone, put an ice pack on my head, propped the instruction book in front of me, and managed to achieve the feat in just three hours. It was amazing looking inside. I never realised there are two layers of intestines.

I’ve quite enjoyed not having a computer, not having an e-mail address or using the internet. In fact, I boasted about it, just as I used to boast for many years when the children were young that we didn’t have a television. Silly really, inverted snobbery.

Now everyone’s been telling me that computers have improved so much that I would love them - perfect for me, easy to use and so quick - since broadband came in. I thought broadband was something to do with trousers worn by elderly gentlemen.

I took soundings and decided on an Apple laptop - a Macbook - which is lovely, brilliant, dead clever. But I hadn’t reckoned on the faff and expense of broadband. I’d somehow thought it was free, and would flow into the house like tap water.

We are in Lakeland, so that’s part of the problem. BT wanted to charge me £24 a month. Someone locally recommended a name that sounded like “testicles” but I couldn’t find them in the phone book.

Then I remembered I’ve got Sky for the footer, so I rang them. They quoted £17, which sounded the best rate, though they said that if I lived in London, which we do half of the year, it would be free. How can this be? That is sheer regional prejudice. I’m writing to my MP.

Then they added there would be an activation fee of £25. I am active, thank you, if only just. They explained it was to activate the broadband.

I had to wait a week, as the stage coaches are slow up here, but it’s now working, after a fashion, though it still seems to cut out for no reason.

Even worse, it’s buggered up our BT phone line. It crackles all the time, which it never did before.

I’m now beginning to doubt whether it’s really worth it, joining the modern world. You get sucked into a continuous cycle of upgrading, improvements, extras.

Actually, cycle is the wrong word. Cycles go round. We are talking expense here - and the only way it goes is up.

Yet once people start, they don’t seem to be able to stop. They get conned and con themselves that they must have extra speed, extra facilities, the latest models.

They queue up all night to spend hundreds on a new gadget, just to have it before the next pointless, piddling must-have nonsense comes along.

I’m also wondering whether improved communication is worth it. Everyone I know moans about having 40 e-mails a day to clear before they can do anything. I’ve only given my e-mail address to about 10 people so far, yet messages are flooding in.

My nearest neighbour, a doctor, sent me an e-mail with an attachment. I felt very smart being able to open it.

“Arsenal’s trophy cabinet 2007-8,” so it said, over a picture of an empty cupboard.

Quite a good joke, but he could have saved it for when we were having a drink in the garden.

I’ve already found myself on lists - people sending the same boring e-mail to everyone in their address book.

So I’m not giving it out to any more people. I prefer the post. Oh, if only we had four deliveries a day, as in ye olden tymes.

Computers have not really changed the world, not the way railways did or penicillin.

At their best, they’re a tool. Mostly they’re a game. And a brilliant way to make money.

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