I’VE LONG had a somewhat ambivalent relationship with modern technology. Brilliant when it works; hateful when it misbehaves and there is no child to hand to fix it. I am fulminating about it at the moment. The law firm I consult for, New Media Law (they call me ‘Old Media Law’ – ho ho), moved from staid Mayfair to swinging Soho. This meant I needed new office keys for the occasional days they entice me out of my comfy, armour-festooned study to visit the open-plan, hot-desk hell that is today’s modern city office. In exchange for my ‘old’ keys, I was given a square of ‘chipped’ plastic hanging from a lanyard.
I had always rather assumed that city workers wore these poxy things as a sort of ‘look at me, I belong somewhere’ badge of office. Not so, said Ian, the joint head of New Media Law, knowing my instinctive refusal to ‘play nice’ with advanced technology. I fail to wear this