On reflection, perhaps my column of last week in which I predicted an imminent Terminator: Rise of the Machines style nightmare where all humans are slaughtered by malfunctioning robots may have come across as a bit, well, anti-technology.
I stand by my concerns about artificial intelligence: we simply don't need it. And the video of the Japanese humanoid robot Aiko Chihira ("She can sing, dance and even use sign language") I saw on the BBC Web site this week has done nothing to convince me otherwise.
Picture Aiko as the prettier relation of the Johnny Cab driver that Arnold Schwarzenegger dismantles in Total Recall, but female and wearing a kimono.
BBC readers' comments ranged from "creepy" to "and so it begins..." to "my ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend" to "apparently she's the receptionist...only a matter of time until she trips out and beats the s--- out of somebody."
But am I wrong? We didn't think we needed mobile phones 20 years ago, and now look at us. Or, to be precise–look at me. It's been brought to my attention this week that rather than being anti-technology, I'm actually addicted to it.
I'm almost constantly glued to a digital screen, if not two. At my worst, I have the laptop in front of me with word documents and Web browsers open, I have the iPad playing some form of sport on the other side of the table and I'm messaging or e-mailing or Facebooking someone on my phone.
I didn't really recognise the problem until it was pointed out to me. Like many addictions, mobile addiction affects the people around the addict more than the addict themselves. When you're the person tapping away, oblivious to the real physical person in front of you trying to ask you a question, everything seems fine. But when you're the real physical person, it can be immensely frustrating.
I know, because I get frustrated at family occasions when my seven-year-old nephew and six-year-old niece sit at the dinner table with heads bent over the Nintendo DS.
Is it something to be worried about for the next generation? We've all seen how mesmerised babies and toddlers are at the sight of a glowing iPhone. They're socialised to them from the earliest age because their parents are shoving them into their faces taking pictures to show the world.
"Sometimes technology is your friend when it comes to children," said a friend of mine. And while I could see his point–adults want to have a grown up conversation and devices are a good distraction. But what did we do when we were children before the age of digital devices? We played games and created imaginary worlds of wild invention. Are we in danger of losing our inventiveness because of the inventions we have. Will our minds become lazy and passive?
For parents there is the danger of hypocrisy –you can't tell your child not to play with a phone when you have it in your hand all the time. Instead, a self-imposed "out of sight, out of mind" rule needs to be enforced.
I blame Trinidad for stoking my addiction. Halfway across the world I needed to stay in touch with friends and family. So Skype, WhatsApp and Facebook became my ever-present communication vehicles on evenings when I was home on the sofa while my Guadeloupian flatmate fed his own addiction–Sony PlayStation–on the other sofa. We'd be metres apart, not speaking, while I chatted silently to people thousands of miles away.
People even message each other in the same house instead of speaking these days.
"Bring me the toilet roll...Are you coming to bed?...Come downstairs your dinner's ready."
One UK newspaper columnist last week admitted to regularly swearing at her husband by text message so the kids don't hear.
As for actually arranging to meet a friend in person for a talk–why would we? We talk to our friends more than we ever did before. Who needs physical real world contact?
Manufacturers certainly don't. They seem completely bent on tempting us to constantly reach for the devices. It's the ding, the vibrating burr, the red notification dot, the compulsion to "just check my phone." It's more-ish like a toy except you never tire of it.
I was the stereotypical late adopter. I got my first touchscreen phone in September 2012, years after my peers. For me the thrill of having the world at my fingertips is still pretty exciting.
But for anyone imagining what it would be like to go back in time, fear not, it's actually not that bad.
On that Paris trip I mentioned last week, we had no Wi-Fi and no 3G. We strolled the beautiful boulevards totally data-less and though at first we fretted that we were cut off from the world, from knowledge, from information–soon we relaxed and forgot about apps, maps and Wikipedia pages. And when we saw the hundreds of people taking silly photos of themselves at the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower we scorned them as fools.
But as our train re-surfaced, this side of the Channel our phones went ding and the spell was re-cast.
Perhaps we should have thrown them into the Seine and watched the modern world float away.