Our electricity meter (my children should look away now) was forcibly updated the other day. Apparently, it came out of the ark. Anyhow, off it’s gone to wherever old meters go – the same place, I imagine, as old anvils. So, our nice electric chap fitted a smart new meter and clipped on a little sensor thing to speak to a nice electricity monitor designed to ‘put you in control of your consumption’. Well, be warned. You’re not so much put in control as driven to frenzy. The thing offers a prim tick if you’re on target and an accusatory black cross if you’re over. You are supposed to set this target yourself but I don’t know how, so I think we’re targeted for a one bedroom flat, currently unoccupied. When that cross thing appears, it’s like being called into the headmistress’s study. Smack! Smack! Write out 100 times ‘I must not annoy the electricity monitor’. The beastly thing is currently in my study, winking like a great spying owl. I’m bowing to it as I type. Seems the politic thing to do before I reach for my revolver.