Her voice was sweet as sugar. It belonged to someone I had never before spoken to or met, and would have been unlikely to do so had I not decided to change my property and contents insurance cover from one market leader to another long-established name.

Change doesn’t come easy, especially for one who refers to a multiband hi-tech digital radio as a wireless, and who stuck with the same bank for 40 years until it became impossible to speak to one’s branch without getting clearance from Mumbai. But the insurance offer was too good to miss – and we are all being advised to tighten our belts.

“You’ve been with us for over ten years,” said the caller“More than 20,” I replied, correcting both the figure and the grammar.

“Are you sure the other company’s benefits are as good as ours?” she asked, ignoring the corrections. “Did you check the small print?”

I refrained from explaining that half a century in newspapers had taught me to dot and cross those letters requiring such attention, but confirmed I had – paragraph by paragraph.

“But why didn’t you see if we could match the new offer – or even better it? You are a valued customer,” she said.

The word ‘humbug’ sprung to mind, but good manners prevailed.

“But why didn’t your company make the first move instead of bumping up the premiums every year?” I asked politely.

In a flash, the sugar dissolved. Things became formal and somewhat strained – like a divorcing couple dividing the once happy home.

****

As if being marooned by ice and snow wasn’t bad enough, Tim – short for That Infernal Machine - was giving trouble in the broadband department. A cry for help was made to Calcutta, where for reasons best known to itself, BT keeps its computer bug busters.

After what seemed an age obeying a disembodied voice demanding to know everything apart from my inside leg measurement, Wasim spoke.

His perfect English made Stephen Fry sound like one of the Mitchell brothers as he asked how I wished to be addressed while we worked together to solve the problem. ‘Peter’ seemed fine to me.

Wasim asked permission to take control of my keyboard (gladly given), and so began one of the most enjoyable hours imaginable.

Although still in his 20s, he had been to England on a training course, during which time he had – and I use his words – ‘taken the opportunity to visit delightful places like Oxford, Cambridge and Wolverhampton’. He spoke warmly of his family (he was one of five children) and asked about mine. Was mine an extended family or were we, as he understood like so many in the west, held together, (again his words) ‘by delicate gossamer and fading memory’?

He was something of a philosopher. But there was no pontificating, only calm reasoning, coupled with the belief that his god had everything under control – including the power to return my machine to the straight and narrow.

Eventually, when he declared the kit fit for future broadband active service, I was genuinely sorry to say goodbye. But no doubt with my track record this will not be the last call made to Calcutta. I hope Wasim’s on duty.

****

‘If you are calling to arrange a re-delivery of your item, the quickest and easiest way is to collect your item from your local delivery office…’ Thus spake another disembodied voice on Monday when I phoned Royal Mail to make arrangements for a letter to be delivered, sent by someone who had not paid the full postage.

It would be untrue to say I do not enjoy bandying words, but surely re-delivery involves delivery to my address and in no way suggests I should risk life and limb on icy roads or increase my carbon footprint by driving into town. Or am I missing something?