Every time I sat at the computer, it would tantalise me. In the corner of my eye, I would see it glinting, inviting me in. I imagined how it could transform my existence. I could do it at the dining table, in the kitchen, on the sofa, in bed or in the garden. I chuckled to myself: I could even do it on the toilet. It would free me from the shackles which currently held me stuck in my rut, immobile and stifled.

I dreamed of how it would fit with my proposed new career. Sitting at the large, solid birch table, surrounded by dictionaries and reference books, music playing in the background and a steaming cup of tea to keep me company, I would write my translations. During the school holidays, Big would be home too: reading, watching the cricket and bringing me fruit smoothies for lunch when he wasn't tending to the kitchen garden. We would break to play tennis, go for a walk or on day trips - my time would finally be my own to share flexibly between the activities I needed to do and those that I wanted to do.

It promised so much, did the little pop up window in my system tray:

"Wireless network detected
One or more wireless networks are in range of this computer. To see the list and connect, click this message."*

Of course, I did not use the unsecured wireless network, kindly but probably unknowingly provided by my neighbours (the same neighbours who have kindly and knowingly provide us with apples these last few weeks), but took myself off to PC World with my dream in mind and my Maestro card at the ready.

The first wireless router was easily installed, I'll admit, and would provide reliable interwebbing from a variety of locations around the house and garden. But, like a puppy dog, it did not take kindly to being ignored. If you left it for a couple of hours and returned, whilst still claiming to be connected, it would resolutely refuse to navigate to any sites. The only solution was to provide regular, physical interaction - namely, hard-rebooting at least once a day. Hardly "always on wireless broadband connectivity". I researched the router on the internet and found many a thread dedicated to solving its many and varied psychological problems. I followed the advice but to no avail - it remained as needy as ever.

It was no good - it would have to return from whence it came, to the Battersea dogs home that is PC World's customer service department.

I chose a different model next time which seemed to offer the same functionality, but fell at the first hurdle. The setup CD failed to set anything up. No apologies, no explanations, just "Setup failed". I had to infiltrate the web admin page and fiddle - I'm not averse to fiddling, after all. It *seemed* to work, when the laptop was about a foot from the access point. I grabbed the laptop with glee and set up camp on the sofa for my surfing session.

But... ah. *click* hmmm. *hover* How slow? *click* What? *refresh* What's the matter? *refresh* Ah, yes, it does work after all. *click* Oh.

No. Call me Miss Picky, but I will not pay £70 for a wireless router which only offers a reliable connection when the patch cable is plugged in. That's not wireless, darlings. Luckily, the man at PC World returns department agreed and my £70 was duly refunded.

Until I've done some proper research, I will be found cramped under the stairs, patched in to the old, reliable (wired) router, my wi-fi life still but a dream...

*this was supposed to be a little picture of the pop-up which comes up in the system tray. But for some reason, my BloggerBot is having a hissy fit and won't let me post pics at the moment... gah again!