“Build a man a fire, and he'll be warm for a day. Set a man on fire, and he'll be warm for the rest of his life.”
Sir Terry Pratchett.
For someone who hates making phone calls and gets out even less, I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time with a smart phone in my top pocket.
Note to shirt makers. Please offer a choice of left or right shirt pockets. Trying to dig a phone out of a left hand pocket with ones left hand leads to a Norman Wisdom sketch. Thank you.
The Bear hates my phone. Much prefers her 5 year old. Her excuse was that hers "has proper buttons".
It's slowly snuck up on me that it's a little more than that. "Oh, Dray, can you..
"When is?..." and "Make a note for me Dray, I'm expecting a call at....from....and by the way, to be on the safe side, I've given them your number too as I'm out of credit"
That last one is a Bearism. I've tried to explain you don't need credit to receive calls, but? Ah well.
My calendar is on my computer. Which is synchronised with an online calendar. The phone is synchronised with both my computer and the online calendar. Naturally, it's all in sync with a backup calendar.
So all day I'm getting booped from the computers calender, bleeped from the email reminder from the Cloud calendar, and kerchinged from my mobile.
So, because she's out of credit, she leaves her phone on the mantelpiece. Her mobile rings. Before I can get to it, the land line rings as her mobile rings off. No probs, I'm getting these rapid changes of direction off to a tee. Heads down the hall, reaches for the land li....
Bugger. There goes my top pocket. "Yellow? No, No, she didn't take her mobile. Yep. No credit. Don't ask me, I'm a fella. What? No, I'm quite comfy down here thank you. I'll, er, yep, nope nope, nope."
"Waddya mean you'll send her a text? Hello? Hello?".
Bloop. "You have one new text message"