Tech savvy.

Yesterday, I had three free Embertec Automatic Power Down plugs fitted. There was a moment of embarrassment when Enzo, the fitter, appeared from under my 'home office' - for tax purposes - desk covered in fluff.

So, a two-fold Sunday mission.  1.  Vacuum under my desk and clean the desktop - that's the timber, not the virtual desktop - and 2. find out why my printer isn't working.  Reasonably straightforward, except perhaps for fixing the printer.

BTW, I'm really missing son, Pete.  He could pretty well fix anything technical around here.  Now he's a 'man who's moved out' he rarely gets in touch, despite my attempts to lure him home with pork roasts, crackling, apple sauce and gravy.  Hoping he gets over this phase.

So, the vacuuming was going well, almost aerobic.  Had to strip off a couple of layers getting into the far corners.  Was going brilliantly until I sucked up a pin.  Not me.  The vacuum.

My desk is hard-wood; about two metres by one.  I carefully pulled it out from the wall to release that tangle of cables.  Alternating between crawling under the now dust-free desk and rolling across the top of it, I followed each cable back to its source, ensuring each plug was firmly in its correct hole.

Still no response from the printer.

Contemplated braving the Sunday bum's rush out at DFO - Direct Factory Outlets; Aussie religion - and buying a new one.  But decided instead to email myself at school and use the printer there.

So everything is pristine and squared on the desk.  I've thrown out receipts from 2007, bent paper clips, old CDs and other dusty detritus.

On a whim, I pulled the printer out from wall again and had a bit of a feel around the back.  Where I found the on/off switch and suddenly the printer is spitting out recipes for beef stroganoff and fish pie - some 1970s comfort food for the winter months.

You'd think I'd have learned my lesson.  A couple of weeks ago I was chatting to the Telstra help-desk in the Philippines, trying to fix my modem.  The guy was checking my line at the same time as I glanced down to discover I wasn't actually connected to the telephone line.  The plug was lying innocently by the wall.  Rather than admit to my idiocy, I acted all grateful; pretended he'd magically 'fixed' something at his end.  You see I'd already spent twenty minutes with the automated service prior to being put through to a human for further assistance.

The IT Crowd definitely had it right with that line 'have you tried turning it off and on again?'  For me, however, it's more a case of have you tried plugging it in and switching it on?