A GENTLEMAN from BT has just rung to say he has evicted a family of spiders from a junction box and we now have our broadband restored.At last.In the words of Joni Mitchell, you don't know what you've got ‘til it's gone.
Four days without connectivity has brought business life to an inconvenient halt. This article, for instance, was about to be wrapped around a pigeon and hurled in a southerly direction. I have had to phone people to warn them emails would not be answered but invoices would stillbe dispatched, via a small, running child.
With the exception of those living in a detached cave in Derbyshire we have become electronics and gadgets dependent.
Once a mobile phone made voice calls, now it is a self-portrait studio, brings you all the news of the modern interwebster craves. It is a diary, a restaurant finder, a shopping trolley, radio, map book and because mine uses Windows 8, pretty damned annoying.
Apparently there is a television set which can record what you do around the house. Without telling you. Which must be rather traumatic for anyone at the other end monitoring feedback.
Our bedroom TV is also a computer. And to ensure an effortless night's viewing from the luxury of the duvet, responds to voice commands. Which means care must be taken shouting at the screen during Question Time so as not to end up watching a documentary on poultry farming or a gay encounter channel.
All this has not been lost on the car buyer. Those stumping up in the luxury sector expect at the very least a refrigerator in the glove box and preferably a TV screen with two monitors in the headrests.
Nobody is going to pay top dollar for a 4x4 if they have to work out what lever is pushed where to maintain grip. No, above a certain price all this must be managed by a Hal 2000 computer which also monitors internal atmospherics and mixes the perfect Martini.
Of course, this has not always been so. Once a top-notch toilet paper salesman would have to pay extra to have a radio fitted to his BMW. Today upgrading the sound system means fifty-speaker stereo and Ken Bruce in the boot.
Bringing us wirelessly to Nissan's luxury arm, Infiniti and its fully-appointed 208bhp two-litre, petrol engine, Q50T Sport. Automatic only to boot, which while we are at it, is massive.
The Q50 has become a head-turner among business customers for its tax-hilarious hybrid, the fastest of its kind and indigestion-inducing for HMRC.
All models are reassuringly pricey, the Sport is Â£34k but desirable options take the final bill to Â£41,545. That's largely visibility, multi-media and safety shield packs. Which means you are paying for sat nav. Which is not really on at this protein level.
Standard equipment, however, does make that basic price tag more appealing and to list the lot would probably take us beyond the colonisation of Mars. Use the miracle of the search engine and go to the Infinit website to see what I mean at .
Obviously all is leather clad and of the highest quality with a ‘welcome' pack and masses of safety and security including steer-by-wire which has three settings. Choose the middle one and you won't go far wrong.
If there is one gripe it is that while the car is clearly well put together there is a lack of imagination-grabbing cabin style.
So what's it like? Well quick and smooth would foreshorten the explanation. Even in sport mode the seven-speed transmission is silky and 62mph comes up in a reasonable, if not hair raising, 7.2 seconds. Cost at the pumps? Expect 40mpg and 151g/km emissions. That's tax group G, Â£180 a year.
The real joy is how all this is delivered with such panache, you are cosseted on long journeys and still able to enjoy some good handling off the major roads.
This, indeed, is where we are up to when it comes to attracting high-grade custom away from Mercedes, Audi and BMW; comfort with performance and reams of equipment.
Who knows what comes next. I hear tell that an American fruit company is planning an iCar which will be programmed to drive itself. If this is the future beware insect life nesting in your technology.