AFTER all the times I have warned others that the Internet is a minefield for computer novices like me, you’d think I’d take my own advice.

Well I didn't; I’ve been hacked, duped and relieved of cash.

When the chap came on the phone, allegedly in answer to my call to Microsoft that my computer was running slow, I didn’t interrogate him or query his Italian accent. After all, the company does operate beyond Botley.

He said my licences had expired and, to cut a long story short, after some clever manoeuvres, took me for £450.

It was only when a geeky chum laughed loudly, telling me the licence couldn’t have run out and the company would not have approached me with a phone call, that a rat began to smell. I called in my IT guardian angel. He’s Brazilian but his criticism of my naivety was pure Anglo Saxon.

The bank was alerted; they could do very little because I had used a debit card – always use a credit card for this sort of thing, I advise others – but I should tell the police. This was done; a crime number was allotted and I was told to tell Microsoft.

Without wishing to be critical after my debacle, the operator appeared indifferent. This was always happening she said. My call would be logged but that was as far as she could go.

Meanwhile, £150 of the cash has been collected by someone in Belgium, the other is destined for America. Eventually I will be down the price of a return ticket to my beloved Nepal, not to mention the cost of recommissioning my computer.

Still, it serves me right I suppose.

THE appeal by the New Theatre for gifts for Oxford Children’s Hospital is doing well, according to recently appointed press officer, Stephanie Tye, whose idea it was.

Apparently space beneath (and around) her desk is scarce and by the time Father Christmas does his stuff on Monday, there should be more than a sackful for the youngsters. The ‘bearded one’ is taking a few hours off to do the business before returning to the theatre for the opening night of Miracle on 34th Street.

Nice one, Stephanie.

A GROUP of teenagers were in the BHS café, the conversation was on embarrassing family members.

One girl said her tipsy dad had insisted on stripping at her sister’s wedding, while one of the boys still blushed over seeing his overweight father posing in swimming trunks.

A second boy earned peals of laughter with the story of his grandad asking for a knife and fork at McDonald’s. Now it was my turn to remember – and blush.