I'm sitting here, typing away while Joan of Arcadia is on in the background. Now, from previous columns it may seem as though I'm a television addict. Well, this is only partly true. I do love certain shows - I've even argued that some TV is better than film. But that's not the point. The point is that I don't like to write when the television is on. I like to sit in my dining room, with my iTunes blaring whatever feels inspiring, and type away on my own. But today there is no iTunes. There is no dining room.

I am in despair. For I have been betrayed.

You know, you give such love and devotion to a beautiful laptop computer (that's 'notebook' computer to Americans). You shower it with the latest virus-protection software, put cute pictures of happy elephants as the desktop wallpaper and try not to download too much junk. And then it stabs you in the back.

It mocks you as you try to type, adding symbols you don't recognise as you hit the keys. It refuses to send important emails. It won't open important documents. It practically screams: 'HA! You incompetent fool! You parade around creating amazing, incredible, life-changing literary magazines, you learn how to upload funny videos to your blog, you add a lifetime's worth of music to me, but can you fix me?! No. IDIOT! Go back to high school.'

So that is why my article for the 'Literature I Love' section is delayed. All this time I've been blindly doing the 'copy and paste' manoevre, typing up my work on Word and then usually forgetting to save it onto a flashdisk until I've accumulated some work. Today I am reduced to typing directly on to the site from the computer in my living room - with the ever-occupied television in the background. No spell check for me, no word count. I could have typed War and Peace by now, and how am I supposed to know without my word count?

Oh it's all very well you telling me I could just do a quick visual scan to determine length. I have a rare eye disorder than only allows me to process so much visual stimuli on any one page, don't you know. There's currently no cure, and you can read about my campaign outside Whitehall for government funded research here. There were banners and everything.

So I have learned two very important lessons this week:

1) I must always, always, always back up my work. Even now I am not a student anymore.

and

2) I am perfectly willing to exploit my role as editor to rant about my computer troubles. For this I'm sorry.

My diatribe against Harry Potter haters will be in the June issue. Prayers and donations for my computer would be greatly appreciated. But mainly donations. Big ones. Anyone sending something in the five-figures will be rewarded with a special column dedicated not to computer troubles, but to said donater's studliness.

And just in case you're wondering, I now have the Eurovision Song Contest playing. If the acts are a reflection of the country they represent, then Bosnia is a scary, scary place. Yet also oddly sexy? Call me, Mr Bosnia. I happen to have a skirt made of apples hiding in my closet, though admittedly there's a lot missing... I got hungry...

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