In half an hour, I'm turning the Internet off for a week.
(Just in this house. Don't worry. I don't have power over the whole Internet. Though the Littlest Latte did ask.)
It's all the fault of this book - Susan Maushart's The Winter of our Disconnect - which I borrowed from the library. In it, a single mother of three teenagers turns off all the screens for six months, backed up by Henry David Thoreau and a shedload of academic studies. During the six months, one of her children bakes cakes, one becomes a fantastic saxophone player and the other one rings people up a lot.
I was entranced. And despite the fact that we don't even own a saxophone, I am confident that a screen-free half term will change my entire family for the REST OF THEIR LIVES, and that we will all become spiritually and emotionally balanced individuals, discovering the pleasures of intelligent conversation, literature, handicrafts and Deep Thought.
In a few moments I shall unplug the TV, the PC, and the little black box thing that connects us to the Internet. I shall make a little pile of switched-off mobile phones. I texted friends this week to tell them they would have to use the landline to call me.
I got a number of texts back, most using the word 'brave'. Feel free to leave a comment along the same lines. I won't see it for a week, mind. I'll be over here in Deep Thought, and not thinking about wanting to watch Netflix at all.