Apparently I'm not really down with the idea of social media in the twenty-first century. I'm just not sharing enough, she says. People wanna know. People expect to know. For someone who would happily tell the world the most intimate details of his life, she chides me, I just don't get it. I don't update it. I'm out of step.
I should be tweeting my every mood (Lord help the world); I don't Instagram my wardrobe changes or Facebook my dinner.
I've only just got to grips with email. I still can't use my cell. I am two hundred and fifty six years old. More or less. What am I supposed to do with Tumblr?
Now a mischievous whisper beside my ear tells me that no-one Facebooks anymore. Okay. Scrap Facebook. I never had Facebook. I don't understand Facebook. But if I did I would be telling it that tonight my dinner really knew how to swear. Not one noun was unqualified by an impressive stream of curses. I've never in my life been so thoroughly buggered.