It has been a bad week for technology. Thanks to a pressing need to have an espresso and a look at my emails before a 9.30 am meeting on Wednesday, I ran Ruby down to the fumes, secure in the knowledge that the Texaco which kept me supplied in Fruit Gums and Heat magazine when I worked at Lambeth Palace was within pushing distance. I didn't realise that this experience would so traumatise the fuel tank sensor that it would retire from the game and leave me riding with a full tank and a flashing yellow FUEL! Light.
So it's back to setting the trip meter each fill-up and trying to remember that I don't have a reserve (as anyone who's seen my new boots already knows).
Not content with returning me to mental arithmetic on the fuel front, the universe has also withdrawn my satnav privileges. Of late clipping the Zumo into its mount has been a bit tricky and I have to remember to wiggle it to make sure it's locked before departure. On Thursday I forgot, and a helpful bloke pursued the bouncing navigator down Victoria Street for me. Now, to date the Zumo has proved very robust and has shrugged off similar impact, but I've long argued London has the hardest pavements in the world and the fact that only the top half of the screen now works would seem to prove me right.