I repeat no phone! Here I am on strikeday travelling rural by diesel to work accompanied by Needlework Natalie but not my phone. Not that I use my phone for phoning. No, I use my phone for blogging, tweeting, emailing, IG-ing, Googling, looking up times of trains (non-existent or otherwise). Don’t worry, I have a scrap of paper in my bag. I have found a pen. I can blog. I have my Kindly, oh, no, flat battery. Note to self, on scrap of paper, charge Kindle when I get to the office. Its not as if my charger is going to be used for anything else today is it!
I know where my phone is. Propped up in the kitchen where I was taking a selfie for my Style Blog. Darn blogs! Miss 21 texts me to let me know of her arrival at work. I will email her from my laptop in the office and hope she gets that on her phone.
Jealous. I am jealous as I watch Needlework Natalie browse, surf, tap and look up our connecting train times. I must sit on my hands for fear of snatching her Nokia out of her clutches.
Lovely views, concentrate on the lovely views, and not a Mr Him in site. Trees travel past in a green blur. Yes, still green. Concentrate. Ignore the lack-of-phone hyperventilation. Breathe deeply. Distraction. Oh, I went to Pilates last night. That was fun. I used to be advanced but that was 15 years ago. Still its like riding a bicycle. You don’t forget. Shame my body forgot. Flexibility is missing and stuckness has arrived.
No-one’s talking on the train today. They are all peering at their phones. Aagh! My trains trundling to Dorking now. Distraction. The Girl on the Train, looking into gardens.
Needlework Natalie is my search engine. I’m calling her Nat Nav. It has a ring to it, well tap to it. ‘What platform do we need?’ I ask my Nat Nav. I like this voice control search engine. ‘Platform 2,’ Nat Nav responds.
Sheep, breathe, look at the sheep, cows, ponies, horses.
Nearly there. Nearly able to open email, nearly able to use landline. Nearly connected.
Dear reader, you may be wondering what Mr Him has been up to recently. Have things been quiet on the Mr Him front or so diabolically bad I ...
Dear reader He did it again. Mr Him, the man living on the edge of taste. Whilst last Friday was about all things Grease by Tue...
Dear reader, I awoke Sunday morning to a text from Miss 22 saying she was passing Birmingham signs and heading north. As we live in Susse...
Dear reader, Mr Him had a touch of the Sopranos last Friday. I have to tell you that I didn't like it and immediately told him to...