Let me say from the outset, I am not what you'd call computer literate.
I can do basic emailing, net surfing and most key strokes required for my job. Beyond that, I pretty much don't know my gigabyte from my USB port.
In fact, as far as I'm concerned the only good port comes in a bottle.
I have to say I've always been that way. I'm not - in today's parlance - hard-wired to handle computers or, in fact, most other types of technology.
For example, this very column is written long-hand, using an ancient feather quill dipped in the finest ink imported from India.
The Rotorua Daily Post employs a team of specialists to handle the parchment it's written on. They wear special gloves when handling it (some of them also work at Subway and use the same gloves) and then a 14-year-old on work experience types my carefully crafted prose on to a computer generated page ... presumably with one hand while texting his friends with the other. No wonder his jeans are halfway down his backside.
It seems a shame that after all that you'll soon be slipping the newsprint version under the dog's blanket in case it pees everywhere.
But I digress.
Much to the disgust of my children, I have the cheapest and simplest of mobile phones.
While they all have the latest xyz applications that enable them to a) conduct surgery while out fishing, b) run a hotel in Malaysia, c) file complex earthquake insurance policies in Christchurch and d) choreograph dance routines in Melbourne, mine doesn't do anything ... and still costs me $15 per month.
In the financial world I have no eftpos card, I'm not registered for internet or phone banking and I have no credit card. If I want money, I go in to see the troops at ASB and they give me some.
I have had my photo taken with all of them. They take the picture home and show the kids: "See this guy here. He actually doesn't have computer banking! Can you believe it! Whatever next?"
I am one of only three people in the world who is not on Facebook. I share this honour with a Buddhist monk in Tibet who claims he doesn't need it because he is in contact with all lifeforms anyway and a guy I went to school with on the West Coast.
He likes a bit of dope and can't actually remember whether he is on Facebook. He promises to check on his computer, if he can remember where he lives.
So, if I'm so averse to technology how then, you may ask, do I cope with all the necessary, life-saving, day-to-day stuff I need to survive - like the TV/ DVD/ CD/ Sky/ video remotes? Simple. I go see Wayne at Noel Leeming.
He's been my "go to" guy for years. We used to play football together, so he knows my shortcomings in the world of technology (and goalkeeping for that matter).
I look at the instruction booklet and the wires and see the aftermath of an explosion in a can of spaghetti; Wayne sees beauty akin to the Mona Lisa.
No matter which big retail outlet he's working at, I manage to track him down.
I am sure I'm his favourite customer. Tears often well up in his eyes as he sees me walk in.
Wayne's worked for a few big stores over the years. Come to think of it, I hope he's not been moving to try to get away from me. I'd be hurt if that was the case.
I might have to get him to explain how I can sign up for Facebook ... and then I'd "unfriend" him.