So I am visiting Madge, an old friend of my parents, who just turned 80, and she is just about housebound, though she still has that self-possessed quality that made her a fine war nurse and could turn a lot of heads in her time. She is complaining that her son gave her this monster computer and then went back to Bahrain (where he works) -- "I think he had this idea I would type my bloody memoirs, and I said where do I roll the paper in, and he just laughed". She can turn it on and type, and print.

I say: "Why don't you get on the Internet?" She says: "Yes, of course, Peter my love, and exchange stock options with Bill Gates. You are out of your mind. I can't do this, it is for 12 year olds." I point out that if she can figure out her next door neighbour's mind (a long running feud), the Internet is cheap change. "I can't, I can't. I am just too decrepit". About 45 minutes later -- including one phone call and one trip to the wire store -- she is online.

2 months later (yesterday), I go back for a visit. We exchange flu horror stories, for about 5 minutes, because she is about to head out for the antiquarian group meeting she discovered on the net. She has a roll call of friends and chat groups that would stun an ox. Her den is wall to wall printouts.

As I get up to leave, she says: "The Internet reminds me of my first husband. Once you got past the fact that he was shouting all the time about how wonderful he was, he was actually good for something."

"Oh, yes, Madge, and what was that?"

She laughed hysterically for about 30 seconds, and then headed for antiques.com, heritage@whatever dot.com, etc., etc.