THERE'LL be many elderly folk in our communities who've already embraced the brave new world of computers and, at the very least, come to grips with the most rudimentary of skills.

But we wouldn't be surprised if we found that, for every silver surfer, there were a dozen for whom the prospect of dealing with machines instead of people is the latest step into a baffling and impersonal world.

That's why the the plans to scrap pension books have angered so many people. They see the new scheme as inconvenient and unsafe.

If they hand out a PIN number, they'll be handing over control of their finances, something which many elderly holding on to the last vestiges of independence don't wish to do.

Though this won't be music to the ears of those who police our communities and work to minimise the fear of crime, they'll also view themselves as adding to the number of targets for street criminals.

Much is spoken about the fear of crime, but it would be folly on the scale of the Emperor's New Clothes to pretend they don't have a fair point.

This isn't the first senior generation to face the apparently relentless pace of change, and it won't be the last. But it is the first to live through an era where change has accelerated so fast.

And, very simply, while society's been clever enough to dream up labour-saving, cost-cutting schemes, it hasn't had the wit or wisdom - it seems to us - to find a way of advancing without making millions of our senior citizens feel as if they've being left behind.