I THINK I’m quite techie and on top of most things these days.

I picked up my wee grandson Joey from school, took him to the park and ran about out of breath for the best part of two hours when I decided enough was enough.

“C’mon Joey,” I yelled at the eight-year-old, who like most kids never wants to go home.

“But... Can I... Why don’t we...”

Joey did his best to avoid going home.

“Nope.” I had my stern voice on.

“You haven’t had your dinner yet and must be starving.” I know I was!

However, a simple kids’ dinner proved to be much more difficult than I could have imagined. You see, a few months back my daughter had gotten a brand-new kitchen fitted together with all new appliances, and it didn’t even cross my mind to ask her how anything worked.

I mean, how difficult could it be?

And she obviously assumed I would have the intelligence to work everything. But no.

“Fish fingers please Nanna,” was the simple request.

Open shut. Open shut. Open shut. Every kitchen unit looked the same, so doors and drawers were opened and closed umpteen times until I found the freezer, and after a rummage, I found the fish fingers.

“OK Joey, go and watch telly and dinner will be ready in 10 minutes.”

Well that was a lie!

“I’ll stick them in the oven with some chips.” I reckoned this was healthier than a greasy frying pan.

Now there were two ovens, so I studied one and pressed every button. Nothing.

And even though I knew both ovens were identical, I moved to the second one and pressed every button and turned every knob, but nothing. Not a flicker.

A simple meal of fish fingers was proving rather difficult, to say the least.

“Can’t really microwave fish fingers,” I thought to myself, and decided not to phone a friend for advice, so... Open shut. Open shut. Open shut.

The fish fingers were now back in the freezer.

“I’m hungry,” was the cry from the living room.

“Come and get a packet of crisps till your dinner is ready.”

“But my mum says I’m not allowed rubbish before my dinner.”

“Joey... crisps are made of potatoes, they’re not rubbish.”

Well, I couldn’t have him feeling hungry, and I had to admit my tummy was rumbling too.

Joey crunched on his crisps as I attempted to find something fulfilling for him to eat.

Open shut. Open shut. Open shut.

Eventually, in a drawer of all places, I found a packet of super noodles.

“Joey!” I shouted through to the living room.

“I’m making super noodles instead, OK?”

Back to the cooker and yet again, no matter what I pressed or dialled, the hob would not heat up either. A lamp was on next to the cooker, so I knew there was electricity, and it was an electric cooker. Even I could work that one out.

Brainwave. I Googled the make and model of the cooker only to discover it was an induction cooker. Whatever that was.

It read: “An induction cooker transfers electrical energy by induction from a coil of wire into a metal vessel that must be ferromagnetic.”

“Eh?” This was news to me.

“Induction cooking works by creating a magnetic field between the pot and the magnetic coils beneath the cooking surface.”

“Magnetic pots...?”

I reckoned I must need to use a special induction pot, but as they all looked similar... batter, clatter, bang. One after the other I tried each pot on the hob for a magnetic connection, but nothing. Not a flicker of heat from anywhere.

The aroma of cooked food was obviously not in the air when a wee voice shouted “I’m starving”. And so was I.

“Have a Jaffa Cake. Dinner won’t be long.”

And before he could say anything...

“They’re full of vitamin C and tiny so you can have two or three.”

Just at that my daughter text.

“How’s things mum?”

“Aye great,” I lied.

“Don’t take any nonsense from Joey,” she added.

“You know he can be a fussy eater.”

Fat chance, I though as I replied.

“All good. He’s just finished his starter.”

Well there was no point in spoiling her rare night out, was there?

I gave up on the cooker and spotted the microwave which had more dials on it than a flight deck on a jumbo jet.

Open shut. Open shut. Open shut.

Eventually I found a bowl and poured in the super noodles with some boiled water (at least the kettle was straightforward), and covered it with cling film.

After deciphering the dials and timer I managed to cook the super noodles.

“You not having any nana?”

“No, nanna’s got a yummy sandwich and a cup of tea.”

Well, that was all I could muster up.

Later that night it was an absolute uncomplicated pleasure to simply unscrew a bottle of wine!