I love my email. As chair of governors, freelance journalist, mother of four children and particularly as secretary of several committees, I find it invaluable.
My information and communications technology adviser (and husband) has set me up email groups which save me hours on phone calls and mean the committees need to meet less often.
I edit a newsletter for my local autistic society and receiving items by email means no more painful, two-finger copy-typing. I am also addicted to Internet banking, Friends Reunited and my baby granddaughter’s website.
So when my phone line went down recently, I was bereft. It was almost a week before I was back on-line. I had spent hours on hold, talking to a series of practically useless BT minions, all of whom assured me I was entitled to compensation.
When the fault was finally fixed, my entitlement was calculated as pound;1.64 for line rental. What, nothing for wasted time? But what joy to find 57 emails waiting for me.
