IN matters technical, I have the gumption, aptitude and flair of an amoeba. Our 5 year-old granddaughter showed me, with patience beyond her years (but with no lasting success), how to operate the DVD player, whilst another young grandchild had to stand over me shouting instructions, when I was struggling, pathetically, trying to make a call on a mobile phone. As for computers, word processors and the like — well, they are beyond my comprehension; e-mail likewise. My excuse — so weak it can barely stand — is that my advanced years render me incapable of learning modern ways; the 'old dog' bemused by 'new tricks' syndrome. The problem here, though, is that there are numerous folk of like age to me — older, in fact — who can command and manipulate the most sophisticated IT with ease, authority and aplomb. For them my admiration knows no bounds; I do not envy them, however, nor do I intend even to attempt to master such arcane arts; my stress levels are ever high due to the constant psychological warfare waged by a capricious organisation named Plymouth Argyle — anything further would lead to visits by concerned folk wearing white coats.

My sole mastering — very modest — of the technical monster took place in my youth, over half a century ago. I refer to the driving of motor cars, powered, as Winston Churchill remarked (unsympathically), by the 'infernal' combustion engine. Even in this, though, was I inept, having to take my driving test three times; so many hours did I spend meandering uncertainly — possibly even dangerously — around the streets of Launceston, I got to know the town as well as most residents. The fact, however, that I was deemed, eventually, capable of being in charge of a motor vehicle did not, and does not, mean I have any knowledge of its power source — clearly also a mystery to the great Sir Winston (though he had an excuse as he did not drive). I know how to check petrol, oil and water levels, plus tyre pressures and windscreen washers — all crucial to both the wellbeing of the car, the safety of the passengers and health of the owner's finances (especially the oil level). The bulk of the array of gadgets, hoses, cables, boxes beneath the bonnet, though, are a mystery — it's like gazing upon the surface of the moon. In theory, mind you, this should not, in modern cars, matter too much when checking if systems are working; for if there is some problem, defect or malfunction, the driver will be informed whilst sitting in the vehicle. There will be lights on the dashboard flashing merrily, a multitude of 'beeps' will assault the ears; indeed, the senses will be assailed by seemingly more illumination and sound than engulf the average town at Christmas. Whilst this seems sensible and helpful, to the dense and easily terrified such as myself, there is a major problem — bewildering excess. Now, if a light came on warning the engine is about to blow up, or the water is hot enough to boil an egg, or if a miniature siren wailed to warn a wheel was about to fall off, the system could not be faulted; and, no doubt, such would take place.

The trouble, though, is that the lights and sounds are not restricted to this; bulbs flash if the water is too cold, too hot, the seat belts are unfastened, a window is slightly open, the side lights are on, the handbrake likewise, power steering is working or otherwise; there is a rear fog light indicator (whatever that is), an anti-lock brake system indicator (again, a mystery), something regarding air bags, an immobiliser system indicator (the mystery continues); that the ignition key has been inserted — or withdrawn; many of these, and more, are accompanied by sounds, a cacophony akin to an Italian traffic jam. Such a barrage of noise and magnitude of illumination could easily induce irritation and indifference in the able, the knowledgeable; to the mechanically illiterate such as myself, it instils, initially, terror, often to be followed by a surge of the traditional British spirit — 'Carry on Regardless'.

The problem is, of course, that while most times the tsunami of light and sound heralds no problems or dangers, there could be amongst it all a small beam or 'beep' warning that an aspect of mechanics or passenger safety needed urgent attention. It might, unfortunately, shine less brightly — or be softer in tone — than that which informs perhaps there are clouds in the sky or some like trivia. There seems to be nothing, though, which shows how much such lights and alarms are draining the battery. All one can do is turn on the ignition - and hope for the best.