Someone was teasing me today, telling me to remember the days before the mobile phone!
I got my first one in 1995, which makes me a pretty early adopter. Being a councillor who went away a fair amount for work, it was a real boon. Even when mobiles became ubiquitous, I was never a heavy user. Perhaps I was still in a mindset of being conscious of just how expensive it was to make calls. And I was a very late adopter of text messaging. Even now, I'm not a massive sender of texts.
Nevertheless, on the occasions I forget my phone or it goes inadvertently flat I do feel that a small part of me has been cut off. Last night I wanted to twit in bed; today I wanted to take photos of all the Commonwealth flags flying in Parliament Square (even though I know that camera phones are not designed for such things). I wanted to Twit my Celeb Spot of Evan Davies emerging from Westminster Underground, heck I even wanted to take a photo of Evan Davies emerging from Westminster Underground. And tomorrow I won't be able to twit my celeb spot of David Milliband (just guessing that he will be the celeb du jour!).
I'm having slight regret at having enveloped up all those old handsets and sent them off to charidee. Jimmy thinks that he get hold on someone else's old handset for me to borrow until I get sorted with a replacement, which won'tbe anytime soon, as you will read in the next post.