The famous words uttered by Neil Armstrong on July 21, 1969 (that's for history buffs) when he landed on the moon. That's if the moon landing did actually take place (that's for conspiracy theorists).

Well, just last week this rapidly ageing correspondent had a monumental moment.

Okay, we'll admit it wasn't anywhere near the moon landing (if it did take place), but never-the-less, it was significant enough. Well, we think so, anyway.

Computers have been the bane of this correspondent's working life.

We had a blissfully computer-free youth. Why, the closest we got to computers was watching Lost in Space or the Jetsons.

"Computers,'' we once declared, "are for the 21st century.''

This was in the 1970s and the 21st century seemed like an eternity away.

When we first started work here as a cadet journalist we used typewriters to very slowly write stories. In fact we had to go to what is now known as TAFE to learn how to type.

They were more innocent times at the Times.

True, there were computer-looking things in the production area, but they were of no concern to us. However, all changed 12 or so months into our cadetship when computers were introduced to the newsroom. It was a quantum leap, whatever that means.

As the years rolled on the place became more computerised and this correspondent became more confused. In more recent times what with we hacks taking on more responsibility for the production of the paper, well, we became totally befuddled.

However, all changed last week. Sort of.

"You're going to have to learn how to do this,'' Editor Bell - her body wracked by arthritis and old age, bellowed at this correspondent as she was sending pages away to wherever they go. Beresfield? The North Pole? We have no idea.

We feigned industrial deafness, as we're wont to do as all these years of being yelled at by Editor Bell (EB) is starting to take a toll.

However, EB was on a mission. She was determined to make this computer illiterate correspondent at least partially literate.

So began a painstaking process for both editor and reluctant student.

"It's easy,'' she said, sounding almost motherly and that terrified us. It was like being at school again, minus the nuns.

With more error than trial we kind of picked up what we had to do. We think.

Then came The Moment. EB had left the room to go to the bottl... an appointment. We were about to head home when a startled looking lass from classifieds came racing into the newsroom.

"The press has just called,'' she wailed.

"They haven't got page 14.''

The fate of Friday's Times rested on this correspondent's shoulders. Well, at least the fate of page 14 being in Friday's Times rested on this correspondent's shoulders. With more luck than good management, we somehow sent the missing page on its way. We guessed. With some trepidation we rang the press.

"Should be there now,'' we said with more hope than confidence.

"Yeah, no worries,'' came the reply.

He then attempted to explain what happened to the page in the first place. We had no idea what he was taking about.

Friday's paper arrived with page 14 intact.

It was one giant leap for mankind. (Okay that's a bit of an exaggeration).