Article due before Christmas was so nearly finished (only a couple of weeks after Christmas and Christmas doesn't really count) when I decided to clean the oven.

It had been distracting me from working by smelling of burnt things instead of heating my lunch while I finished article.

So allowed computer to have a little sleep and went to unearth Mr Muscle.

In sleep mode, computer now displays picture of snow-covered Alps, selected from lakes and mountains screen-saver (a not particularly coveted but nevertheless received Christmas gift), which on first use had effect of making computer choke and die.

Clooney lookalike Macdoctor managed to dislodge gristle effect corruption from hard drive and install picture of Alps, while on same visit giving me another (not particularly coveted) Christmas gift - a book entitled How Macs Work.

The oven now passes for clean and smells bleachy, rather than burnt, and How Macs Work has had its first official outing from the shelf where I put it two weeks ago.

When I returned from kitchen, to put finishing touches to overdue piece and send it, the Alps were still there, covered in sugary snow but, when I tried to retrieve nearly finished overdue piece, it went into spluttery mode and then conked out.

Was skimming through index of How Macs Work, looking for the computer equivalent of the Heimlich manoeuvre, when the phone rang and editor demanded to know if she was ever going to get the piece, as section of paper which it was to go in was going to press within the hour.

Explained the problem and that I was in the process of sorting it and should be able to get it to her within the hour.

Then consulted troubleshooting section of new book, which didn't appear to have a section on how to sort it, when unwanted screen-saver gift corrupts computer and loses essential work.

All, however not lost. Before death by choking, I had printed a version of the piece, which was almost finished and was able to remember and hand write the final paragraph, which I faxed to editor, well within the hour in which the deadline expired and the hostage (my fee) would be lost.

Feeling very pleased with myself for having had the foresight to print in advance, I had another look at the present from George and turned the computer on and off at the wall a few times.

The third time this resulted in computer coming back to life, minus the Alpine scenery, but complete with all other files except, as I discovered when I tried to print an invoice for the work I had just finished, the ones which make the printer work.

Deciding that tackling more than one technical problem a day was probably not good for me, I decided to also hand write the invoice so I could post it that evening and was just addressing the envelope when my editor called for a second time.

"A lovely piece," she said, pleasantly, before adding: "worth the wait ..." and explaining that it had given her an idea for another piece which perhaps I would like to hand write?

I confidently said there was no need as I had sorted the computer and would soon have the printer fixed as well but she was adamant.

"When your fax arrived," she explained, "No one could believe what terrible handwriting you had and we thought you might like to do a piece about what your writing says about your personality ..."