Stand Clear. For Your Own Safety.

On Saturday afternoon, despite being barely two months old, the main PC went into an irretrievable hibernation. I can only assume that this was some form of protest against the usual gripes: overwork and underpay. Despite 12 hours trying to coax it back out from underneath the duvet with every form of artificial resuscitation known to man, it was as dead as the proverbial plague victim.

That is, until I took it out for a drive. I talked to it in gentle tones, as you might your favourite pet on the last trip to the vet, soothing background music on the CD player. Down the country lanes we went, round the roundabouts, along the motorway, heading for the den of iniquity that is Chatham, from whence the idle box of circuitry had come.

Of course, once they plugged the little bugger in, Windows safe mode popped cheerily up on the screen without a second's thought. After half an hour of diagnostics while I listened to a string of irate customers' electronical woes, I then had to endure much polite condescension.

"When the power light flashes, that means it's gone into hibernation." Yes I know.

"Holding the power button for six to ten seconds will switch the power off completely." Yes, I know.

"Switching it back on again will launch windows safe..." Yes. I know. I wondered if Bill Gates gets those kind of raised eyebrow looks when his PC goes on the blink.

I left sheepishly, feeling the need for some of that soothing background music, but changed my mind and put AC/DC on instead. The audio system in the car immediately stopped working, and took my only other source of comfort, the friendly (everso slightly sultry) SatNav woman, with it. This is bad timing, since I'd only the day before agreed the sale price on the Somnambulist mothership and it's due to be picked up this week.

I stopped the car, switched off, waited, and tried again. Nothing. The only thing that brought it back to life was distance from my physical personage. Once I had got home and weeped into a large mug of coffee for ten minutes, Brian Johnson was back and making lewd suggestions to the SatNav girl.

These things come in threes. This morning, on my jog (stumble) around the orchards, my iPod packed up in the middle of Insomnia.

Boom-boom "..I can't get no.... " Oh, I've gone to sleep.

A polite word of warning for your own benefit. Don't bring precious electrical items to the Applehouse until I stop channelling gremlins.