I believe in fairies

When I got out of bed this morning my laptop was unresponsive. Thankfully I had finished compiling the vast quantity of information I had been asked for, and sent it to its recipient last night, so it wasn't the end of the world, but it would mean total isolation from it.

I had bought the laptop in May at an Oxford branch of PC World, so it had to still be in warranty. All I needed to do was to get it to the local branch of PC World. I knew that Rochester had its own branch though I did not know its location. Rochester itself is an historic theme park combining Roman, Medieval and Dickensian elements, all the practical stuff is across the river in unlovely Strood. Surely if I just cycled into Strood I would find PC World.

So I dug out my receipt and my rebuild back-up stick, put the laptop and all my cycling clobber into the front basket of my bicycle and headed off over the bridge to find my fortune. I found Matalan, Next, Morrisons, Marks & Sparks but no PC World. I considered asking the staff at Argos but the queues were monumental so I asked a woman who was smoking a fag outside. Yes she knew where it was, it was by the airport (airport? Who knew Rochester has an airport?). She couldn't give me precise directions but she could tell me it would take me about 45 minutes on a bicycle. I did ascertain that the first leg of the journey would involve crossing back over the bridge. That was a good enough start for me.

Back over the bridge and along the High Street and the information centre was closed. I'd have to try a gift shop. The saleswoman in the first shop I tried could not have been more helpful. She had once been lost somewhere and the battery on her phone was flat so no Google maps for her. She asked for help and a kindly soul had printed off a paper map for her. She had been so blown away by such kindness from a total stranger that she mentioned it to her manageress who had told her that they too would provide that level of customer service from that moment on.

I don't know how long she had to wait for a lost soul without a smartphone to walk into her shop asking for help but she was just so excited to be able to provide it. “The printer is in our other shop, three doors down, I'll meet you there” she said as she scampered off. As I walked in to the other shop she apologised for the printer being so slow, but soon enough I had a paper map in my hand. She had obviously allowed Google to show the car route, but was happy to mark the better route for bicycles onto the printout. “Turn right at the Fleur de Thé and then it's straight on until you hit the roundabout where you turn left”.

I thanked her profusely and headed off on my adventure. I passed some astonishing architecture but chose not to stop and snap it, I'd do that on my way back home. The hill was everlasting, the cycle path petered out and I was on a fast and narrow road rapidly approaching the motorway which runs from London to Dover. I could feel my courage slipping away and stopped to ask several people where I was on the map. Finally I was pointed to the correct road and I was so, so grateful.

At PC World Zoë waved her magic wand over the laptop and it leapt back to life. I took a more direct route home, freewheeling all the way down a long straight hill with a cycle path at the side. Grinning.

And just before reaching the fabulous musical gates I whizzed past the health centre where I have an appointment in a couple of weeks time, so a very useful bit of orienteering.

Back at home I backed up everything. Twice.