Last night I spent two hours unsuccessfully searching the house for our Roomba: the little chap had wandered off somewhere, had presumably gotten stuck and was now sulking in parts unknown. So far, situation normal, but this time none of the usual suspects presented themselves: under the bed; behind the loudspeakers; under the litter tray (don’t ask) – all clear.

Frustrated and perplexed, I threw myself down on the sofa and switched on the TV – this week’s Horizon was just starting. It’s title: Where’s My Robot?

Two hours later, Gill got home and found the recalcitrant ‘bot in 30 seconds (it must be a girl thing) – it had opened a door, got into the room, closed the door after itself and then couldn’t open it again. Worse than cats.

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