I have been outnumbered! I give up – I cannot for the life of me think up and remember one more pin number or password that is alphanumeric and that by some obscure elaw must contain more than eight letters or numbers or signs that in the normal scheme of things no person in his right mind would use on a daily basis in an address or reference. I am tired of having to dream up a password that is different from the dozens that I'm already drowning in, to write it down and commit it to memory, then to chew up and swallow or burn the paper, never to divulge the password to another living soul! I’m tired of using the wrong password for the right egroup, or website, or bank account, or online order, only to have to request a new password from the authority concerned, which password sometimes takes up to a day to be granted.
I’m exhausted by the mere thought of a trip to the bank to re-password the in any event nearly empty account in my name, where I’m greeted by a sigh and a shrug from the person behind the counter – a kind of “What can you expect from a person over a certain age?”

I’ve tried constructing spurious addresses or telephone numbers out of passwords or pin numbers in a different format, but I have to remember what fake number refers to what password. I know there are software programmes that purport to keep your passwords safe and that only you can access them – but the software needs a password to access it! Apparently there’s a move afoot to introduce drawing rather than text as a pin –fine for folk with glamorous cellphones or Blackberries – but what will happen at an ATM? Will there be an unstolen e-pen always available?

I’ve very nearly reached the point where I will use one password for every electronic transaction I do, and to hell with the consequences. Or I shall keep what little money I have under my mattress and give up ordering anything online. I can’t wait for iris or fingerprint recognition – my number is up, and I’m all pinned out!

I am a book lover. Always have been, always will be. The smell of a new book, the soft pages turning, the rows on my bookshelves, all confirm that I can pick up a book at any time and be comforted and intrigued, or can escape from whatever life is chucking at me. So the thought of yet another electronic device in my life, this time to replace my beloved bookshelf companions of years, was enough to send me straight to bed, clutching my latest read firmly to my bosom. Quelle horreur!