Click. The TV hissed into life and the silver screen bathed him in light.

Click. The video whirred into action and his favourite Brit awards video appeared on the screen.

Click. The sound went up to near maximum and the music washed over him.

John was safe; away from all the hassle of yet another showdown with his mother. He knew she wouldn't come into his bedroom, not now he had his wall of sound around him. He was safe.

As his mind cleared John reached for his mobile he kept tucked under the pillow, charging from the bedside light socket. He pressed "A" for Anna and curled up, half watching the familiar pictures and half waiting for Anna to answer. Usually they would talk about homework at this time but tonight John knew she would let him tell her how angry he was with his mother. She was having parent-problems too. He'd spent hours listening to her. Now it was her turn to listen to him. The mechanical voice clicked in: “Leave a message.” John sighed and turned back to the screen and let it mesmerise him.

At last his mobile rang. Anna replied? No it was his mother ringing from downstairs! “Come down and finish the pots!” She was ringing his mobile! She will be appearing on TV next he thought! This was his world, his life; she had no right to invade his space. The world below was so emotionally congested he could not live in it. Now his mother was using technology to get at him! He slumped downstairs, ready to do battle again.