Mobile Phones

Ed and I came up to the bungalow last night prior to my day off today, when I had a call on my mobile phone.

“So what?” you might say, “everyone receives millions of calls on their mobiles daily.”

Not me. I almost never receive calls. And as it happens, didn’t receive last night’s call, which flashed up on the answerphone some hours later when half a bar of signal miraculously appeared. Of course, by the time I’d picked up the phone and fumbled about trying to ring the answerphone, all trace of signal had disappeared. I spent the rest of the evening pacing around the bungalow trying to find a spot where there might be some suspicion of a signal, then rushing to ring the answerphone before said signal disappeared again.

All to no avail. I never did achieve a long enough signal to do any good.

So this morning, it being bright and Spring-like with the snowdrops and the aconites out and the crocuses (crocii? Come on, you Latin scholars) just beginning to peep through, Ed and I went for a walk entirely in order to allow me to pick up my phone message.

Three miles further on and on the top of what passes for a hill in Norfolk, I eventually found sufficient signal to connect to the answerphone and pick up the message. Phew!

Only it wasn’t a message at all. It was Nigel the curate having a private (and it has to be said, uninspiring to onlookers – or should that be onhearers?) conversation with his builder. Nigel is having some building work done and presumably has my number on speed dial or something (which in itself is a joke, considering Nigel’s well-known propensity for regularly failing to turn up) and inadvertently hit the wrong button.

I listened to ragged bits of desultory conversation for four minutes, hoping Nigel would have discovered that his phone was on and switch it off, but no such luck. So in the end I deleted the message, hoping the little icon which keeps telling me I have a new message, would disappear.

It hasn’t and I have no idea how to get rid of it.

The good thing about the walk (apart from being absolutely glorious on a glorious morning, that is) was that I dscovered that the whole of this area is a mobile phone signal black hole, rather than just the bungalow. So it isn’t just us.

Ah well! Managed without the wretched things for fifty plus years so can probably continue without for another few.

See, I told you this was well and truly rural.

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