GRANNY is baffled by the world of new technology. She did get a mobile phone a few years ago as she was worried about being left behind.

But she rarely turns it on as it ‘runs the battery down’. And besides, there’s no point, she argues, as ‘nobody ever rings me anyway.’

She marvels at all her grandchildren with their ‘computerised brains’ and complains she doesn’t understand what they are talking about half the time. Words like Google, Spotify, WhatsApp and Instagram may as well be a foreign language.

So, this year, we decided to get her an iPad for Christmas and lead her gently into the modern world. Although she lives in Kent, she’s staying with us until after New Year, so we said we could teach her how to use it.

Sixteen-year-old Roscoe, who sorts out all the baffling technical stuff for us at home, like how to work the DVD player, volunteered to do the training.

But, although he’s used to his dad and I being a bit slow on the uptake, he wasn’t prepared for just how much work was involved in order to get his granny up to speed.

He started by setting her up with an email address: “But I already have one of those, I just can’t remember what it is. Are you sure I’m allowed to have another one?”

It turned out Granny did go on a council-run internet course for pensioners six years ago when a man she calls the ‘Web Wizard’ gave everyone an email address and demonstrated how to send an email.

“He told us to come back the next week and send one on our own. But I was frightened I would make a fool of myself, so I never did do it,” she confessed.

One of the many things she worries about is that her identity could be stolen online: “Why would anyone want your identity, Granny?” said one of the boys. “They’d take one look and give it straight back.”

“You may laugh. But it happens. I read about it all the time,” she admonished them. “There’s no way I’m giving away my bank details. You never know where they could end up.”

She’s been especially nervous about this ever since she was in charge of the boys a few years ago while we were away and ended up convinced Charlie’s bank account details had been broadcast to the nation via our TV screen.

She rang us in a panic: “Charlie was doing something on the computer before he went out and now his bank account details are all over the TV screen. It’s all there for anyone to read, I don’t know what to do.”

We were baffled. It was only when we spoke to Charlie that it all became clear. He’d been playing a Fifa football manager game on the PlayStation: “The details of my transfer budget were still on the screen because I hadn’t turned it off. But did she actually think I could have £35million in the bank?” he laughed.

We all agreed it wouldn’t be a good idea for granny to dip her toe in the world of online banking.

So Roscoe explained he’d start her off with something simple: “You can learn all about Siri. It’s Apple’s voice-controlled intelligent assistant, which will help you navigate your way around if you have any problems.”

She looked at him blankly, like she was hearing lots of words but didn’t understand any of the meaning: “That would be a good idea I suppose. I’m not very up-to-date with it. All I know is the conflict is on-going, but I don’t really understand it.”

Once he’d reassured her she didn’t have to master the complexities of the Syrian crisis in order to send an email or surf the internet, she relaxed.

For a bit of light relief, Roscoe showed her how to play a YouTube video of one of her favourite stars, Daniel O’Donnell.

Then she learnt how to FaceTime her other grandchildren in Kent. I emailed her some recent photographs of our boys, which Roscoe showed her how to save in her photos file, then forward on to others.

She seemed to be getting the hang of it: “This is great,” she said, announcing that she wanted to send her best friend Frieda the photos too: “Actually, let’s FaceTime Frieda instead, that’ll be more fun,” she said.

“I think you’ve cracked it, Roscoe,” I said. But then it turned out that Frieda didn’t have an email address. Nor did she have an iPad or iPhone.

She looked crestfallen: “You mean I can’t talk to Frieda?”

“Well, not unless she has an iPad or iPhone,” said the boys, explaining that the same applied to Pam and all her other friends.

She seemed disappointed: “You can show Frieda the photos on your iPad when you get home.”

“Of course, I can talk to her then too, can’t I?” she said relieved, suddenly reassured by the warm familiarity of the real world.

But I’m sure she will get the hang of it all soon.