I was definitely standing on the platform waiting for it with the rest of the inhabitants of the Earth. I remember it pulling up extremely quickly, the doors opening only a fraction before the ones at the front started yanking hard on them in their haste to board. Crowds frazzle me so I stood back, letting the younger and bolder travellers alight. And just as I approached there was a loud buzzing noise and the doors slammed shut, leaving me and a few other stragglers watch it disappear into the brightly lit, hi-tech future.

That’s a bloody lie. I wasn’t even at the station that day, having deliberately made the decision that I was not getting on that train then, now, or anytime soon.

But I often wonder why. What stopped me and what is still stopping me today from taking even the slightest interest in all things techie?

It is not an age thing because my big blister handles everything Apple-ish with flair. My mum even has a smartphone for heaven’s sake. And if I’m fifty you can imagine how old she is.

Fear of the unknown? When I read fellow bloggers discussing tools they use, such as Buffer and Hoot Suite, I realise that in my world those are things to shine my finger nails, and a character from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. What these tools could do for me or anyone else just makes my eyes glaze over and my brain click off.

Fear of being eaten alive? For a few months I had my aforementioned sister’s codes to check out things on her Facebook account. I would waste endless moments fluttering from one old friend to the next, to their cousin, then their sister-in-law’s colleague’s daughter’s wedding photos, before I realised that the morning had gone and my life was no better for having spent that time spying. For that was ultimately what I felt I was doing.

What about Twitter? Well, if Trump tweets then I certainly don’t want to. Only birds should be doing this. Cute little yellow birds in cages. Not ugly big orange men who should undoubtedly be put behind bars too.

Or maybe I just want to be different? Purple spiky hair, big green suede shoes, a scribbled-upon army jacket and an old man’s cap in the eighties are surely the equivalent of having an ancient Nokia mobile phone, no Facebook, nor Twitter, nor internet skills today. Why do I still feel that need to stand apart?

Honestly I can’t say. All I know is that I feel no lesser, no older, no weirder, no dumber than my up-to-date friends and family.

Hark! I can hear another of those trains rattling in the distance. Maybe one day I’ll make my way down to the station and see what I’ve been missing.

In the meantime I’ll just stay here, in my favourite chair, hitting the keys on this admittedly modern little machine.

That, and a big mug of tea, is more than enough to keep me happy today.