This might seem curious to some, given my ultimate chosen career (all previous ones having chosen me, rather than the other way around), but I am a bit of a Luddite. Actually no, not a bit, but a lot.

I am no lover of constantly emerging new technology. Preferring to wait and see whether it will serve any useful purpose, before dipping my hands into my, or my employer's, pocket.

I was sacked from my first job in 1970, then employed by a notable Bristol firm of architects as an Architectural Technician (skivvy). Dismissed for poor timekeeping.

The senior partners' PA, a very sweet Swedish lady admonished me whilst handing me a P45 (official termination of employment tax document) for constantly being late for work.

"You are always late for work!" She said. Continuing with: "And you always appear to arrive from a different direction each morning. Your work is good but you seem to have difficulty getting out of bed each day."

My reply to Mrs Household (her married name, so I will use it here) was "It isn't my bed I have difficulty getting out of."

My comment did not set me up for much chance of a reprieve. I was though never late turning up for work again. To this day, fifty five years on!

I quickly found another job. It was easy in those days. As a junior engineer, for a firm of Mechanical Services Engineers (cowboys). My brief, eighteen month, experience with my earlier Architect employers had taught me much about Building Services. Their main client being Bristol Royal Infirmary. Lots of pipes, lots of machinery, lots of plumbing, lots of switch panels and lots of dangerous gasses. Luvverly Jubberly!

I persuaded my new employer that I would need an electronic calculator. Being naïve, my bosses acceded to my request. I sort of forgot to mention at my interview that I had failed GCE Maths. Twice!

It took two men to carry the calculator upstairs to my kennel (office).

About the size of an average washing machine it was fitted with a keyboard from hell designed to defeat all but the intrepid. Sprouting twelve, no less, what were then called 'Tubes'. Glass ampules about the size of a small candle, each containing ten filaments.

You hit number nine on the keyboard and Lo! Number nine lights up. Terrific. Problem was the 'tubes' didn't last very long. A numeral filament would occasionally burn out. However, one could generally press on regardless by working on a system of figure it out by a process of elimination. If 9 didn't light up, then you knew it was 9. Get my drift? A problem arose when more than one filament burned out in any one Tube. However, if it was a close numerical digit and importantly, a long way to the right of the full stop decimal deliminator light, then fuck it. Who cares?! Press on regardless. I never blew up any hospital, school, prison or luxury hotel in all of my five years employed by my bunch of cowboy employers.

I shall continue in due course with the arrival of Clive Sinclair's world changing introduction of his brilliant LED pocket calculator. For those of us prepared to splash out sacrificing a day's wages each month just to service its two AA batteries needed to run it.

55 years on and you haven't yet lived. Trust me!